Sumer is icumen in

"It was an age that enjoyed transvestism and [...] bisexuality. A great deal of Spenser's Faerie Queene concerns the exploits of the Amazonian knights Britomart and Belphoebe. Britomart, like Viola, has to woo a lady in order, we are told, to keep up her disguise. She seems to have been very convincing."

-- Maureen Duffy, The Erotic World of Faery

To mark the summer solstice we have some wild and riotous fantasy in store. Brawny knights dressed fetchingly in dainty frocks. Fair maidens clad in plate armour and knocking down opponents like ninepins at the joust. Courtly gatherings where honeyed words are more dangerous than poison. Tourneys that are tests of virtue as much as of mettle.

Come back tomorrow for all the cross-dressing, gender-bending, sword-clashing, monster-hunting, pseudo-medieval action you could ask for, as filtered through the triple lenses of Thomas Malory, Greg Stafford and, most of all, Edmund Spenser. Yes, it's The Faerie Queene as it might have been reimagined in an OSR module of the 1980s. Farewell for now, friends, I'll be gone; our queen and all her elves come here anon.

The world of 2050

“The ‘gods’ in [Lovecraft’s] tales are symbols of all that lies unknown in the boundless cosmos, and the randomness with which they can intrude violently into our own realm is a poignant reflection of the tenuousness of our fleeting and inconsequential existence.”
 – S T Joshi, I Am Providence

When Paweł Dziemski and I began talking about collaborating on a Cthulhu mythos gamebook, our first thought was when to set it. Roleplaying games like Call of Cthulhu and Tremulus tend to be set in the 1920s and ‘30s, the time that H.P. Lovecraft was writing the original stories. But HPL wanted his horrors to feel real and immediate. They were set in his present day. Locating Cthulhu roleplaying adventures during the Great Depression is the cosy option. Paweł and I (and Lovecraft) aren’t interested in cosy.

Our first thought was to make the story contemporary, but the risk there is it might date too quickly. Suppose we were to mention the war in Ukraine. By the time the gamebook comes out, America might have given Putin carte blanche to bomb it into submission. Alongside Trump's monarchical power-grab, the rise of the populist far-right in Britain and Europe, and the trend towards opportunist "presidents for life" like Erdoğan and Maduro, uncomplicated nonhuman horrors from outer space start to look a little tame.

So then we got to thinking about Robert W Chambers’ book The King in Yellow (1895), which is often assumed to have been an influence on Lovecraft’s development of the Cthulhu mythos. (Incorrectly, in fact; Lovecraft admired Chambers’ early weird stories, but he only came across them in 1927.) “The Repairer of Reputations”, one of the stories in The King in Yellow, is set in a satirically imagined 1920.

Taking our cue from Chambers, twenty-five years in the future is sufficiently far ahead that nothing Paweł and I come up with can be proved wrong. In Cthulhu 2050: Whispers Beyond The Stars we imagine a world in which there are three major powers: the Union (a coalition of Canada and the current US coastal states), the Federation (Russia and the Eastern European countries it has reconquered), and the Republic (China). The heartland of America comprises the so-called Free States.

Personal robots, or "Fridays," have become indispensable, serving as pets, assistants, carers, and/or companions. Friday was a brand name of the Faraday Corporation, formerly the market leader but now defunct. So Friday is now used as a generic term for any personal robot. Once a luxury item, Fridays are now ubiquitous, coming in a variety of forms—from supertoys to android helpers to sleek animal-like bodyguards. Despite the utility of Fridays, there is an underlying class divide just as with slave ownership in Ancient Rome: only the employed elite have high-quality Fridays; the rest must make do with cheap basic models.

The upper echelons of society have embraced neural interfaces, enhancing their cognitive abilities by connecting directly to superhuman AI. This technology promises unparalleled productivity and even hints at immortality for the wealthy, but it also sparks ethical debates and fervent opposition from religious and activist groups.

For most people, life is a mix of moderate comfort and soft constraint. Automation dominates the menial economy, providing unemployed citizens with a stipend to fund a lifestyle of low-grade leisure and consumption. However, this has widened the gap between the elite and the average citizen, creating a world that is simultaneously wealthier and more unequal.

There are lunar colonies too, privately funded by corporations involved in research, low-gravity manufacturing, and mining helium-3 for fusion.

In Whispers Beyond The Stars, you play Alex Dragan. At the start of the game you’re just leaving prison after serving a ten-year sentence, which accounts for why you’re a little behind the times concerning the details of daily life. That set-up allowed me and Paweł to indulge in a little exposition where necessary. You are met at the prison gates by your antiquated Friday, Perine, and a reporter who you may or may not choose to talk to. Either way, you’ll soon be pulled into a dark conspiracy involving numbers stations and world-changing signals from another world. But more of that in an upcoming post.

"I have tried to weave [...] a kind of shadowy phantasmagoria which may have the same sort of vague coherence as a cycle of traditional myth or legend -- with nebulous backgrounds of elder forces and transgalactic entities which lurk about this infinitesimal planet (and of course about others as well), establishing outposts thereon, and occasionally brushing aside other accidental forces of life (like human beings) in order to take up full habitation."   -- H P Lovecraft

Monkey gland madness

Listening to the Cautionary Tales episode “Dr Brinkley’s Miracle Cure for Impotence”, I thought of a Cthulhu RPG scenario in which a quack doctor in 1920s America is treating impotence by transplanting glands that turn out to be from Deep Ones – or some other nonhuman species. 

OK, that could make for a scary adventure, albeit with a strain of body horror perhaps a bit too reminiscent of "The Shadow Over Innsmouth". There's only one problem with it. By setting the story in the 1920s, the whole idea becomes -- well, kind of quaint, right? It loses the immediacy that could make it genuinely unsettling.

Now suppose we set it instead in the present day. The same therapy is being promoted by a Goop-like company in 2025. (For the avoidance of doubt, I do not mean to imply that Goop actually uses alien glands in their products.) Now it’s much scarier. We live at a time when the US administration has been telling citizens that the best counter to a measles epidemic is not the measles vaccine but large doses of vitamin A, and medical researchers have been told to avoid mentioning mRNA in their grant applications if they want federal funding. So gland transplant nuttiness is not only more uncompromisingly horrific in a modern context, it’s also starkly credible.

This is why Paweł Dziemski and I chose not to set our upcoming Cthulhu gamebook in the traditional Depression-era milieu but instead in a near future in which history has taken some very dark turns. We don't want readers to have the get-out clause of imagining it all in a hokey playacting past. This is horror you're going to have to face without a comfort blanket. More on that project to come, so stay tuned.

Forget the thumbscrews

A trope you often see in TV shows and movies these days is the hero torturing a suspect to get information. It cropped up in Watchmen and Daredevil among many others. Sgt Sam Provance, who exposed abuses at the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq, points out in this BBC interview (25m25s in) that many of the real-life torturers in the US Army grew up thinking that's what the good guys do. An audience’s desire for a “strongman” (or in Watchmen’s case a "strong" woman) to brutalize the bad guys usually comes at times when people feel powerless and frightened, a sure sign of a civilization at a low ebb.

A truly strong hero in a confident democratic society doesn’t need to behave like a sadistic bully. I’m thinking of the Allied officer after the liberation of a POW camp in Burma. The Imperial Japanese commanding officer came to see him and asked why the Allied troops weren’t starving and beating the Japanese prisoners, given the way the Japanese had maltreated their own POWs. The Allied officer replied, “Because we’re better than you are.”

Torture is also usually ineffective at getting reliable information, though admittedly the states that employ it don’t usually care much about the truth. But we’re not here to discuss the effectiveness of torture, nor the libertarian psychology that stokes fantasies of it. (Hollywood writers have been embedding libertarian ideology into their scripts for decades, after all. I'm sure if you asked the President of the United States he'd yap, 'Torture? Big fan, big fan.') I'm not even going to talk about the moral arguments, which you'd hope wouldn't have to be explained to any civilized person. My gripe about torture in story terms is that it’s just plain boring.

Real interrogation, whether in fiction or roleplaying, gives you an opportunity for an interesting scene. One character has information they don’t want to reveal. The other character needs to gull them into telling the truth. Like so:

In GURPS, Interrogation is a skill quite separate from Intimidation, though the GURPS designers make the classic mistake of giving a huge Interrogation bonus for the use of torture. Players therefore tend to get the pliers out and make like Beria’s thugs, which is a pity because role-playing the scene in which the interrogator tries to outwit their adversary is potentially way more interesting than any combat could ever be.

The examples of torture in Daredevil are particularly uninspired because DD has special abilities that help him to tell when somebody is lying. But come to that the writers also gave him a gruelling concussive battle with a dozen or more mobsters where he could just have pulled the fusebox off the wall and beaten them easily in the dark. So it’s not too surprising that the writing of other scenes was sloppy and ill thought-out.

There are writers who do it well. Try the novels of John le Carré, whose interrogators employ the gamut of psychological tricks -- cajoling, bullying, charming, flattering, coaxing, probing and misleading until their subjects reveal the information, often without realizing how much they've given away. Le Carré's interrogators never need to dangle somebody off a roof or pull out their fingernails, and those scenes are so much more gripping because of that. (For example Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy or A Perfect Spy.) Or consider Geoffrey Household's classic thriller Rogue Male, where the antagonist extracts a confession from the narrator who has not previously admitted the truth even to himself -- and that's under duress but without the use of physical torture, which is used by the bad guys right at the start of the novel with no useful results whatsoever.

Then take a look at this video in which a real-life expert interrogator analyses movie writers’ ideas of how it works. And next time you have an interrogation scene in a roleplaying game, consider how much more interesting it is to have it play out sans the waterboard and the big-dick posturing.

Ill doings in God's country

Dragon Warriors' 40th anniversary won't pass unnoticed as long as Red Ruin Publishing have anything to say about it. They've just released the seventeenth book in their series of DW adventures, and it's one of the best. The Curse on God's Acre is a 500+ section gamebook by David Donachie and Paul Partington:

Deep in the fertile countryside of Chaubrette, you find yourself in the isolated valley known as God's Acre. Here the sturdy locals grow wine and keep sheep — but all is not as it seems. A pernicious evil haunts the lanes and narrow fields.

Revealed at first in scraps of children's songs, in the blank stares of straw dolls, in the animals masks lurking in the shadows, in the tangled entrails of a murdered woman. Mysterious evil has the valley in its grasp and is squeezing ever tighter.

Special rules for dread and exhaustion add to the sense (for me, anyway) of a blending of Clark Ashton Smith's eerie tales of Averoigne with the straightforward secular horrors of The Wicker Man. But to make any such comparison is to sell this atmospheric and original adventure short. The Curse on God's Acre is a memorable solo scenario that deserves a place in every Dragon Warriors player's collection. You can pick it up for as little as $1 if you're hard up, and the artwork alone is worth more than that, so grab your copy now.

Far in the pillared dark

A repost from my Patreon page today. This is from the Jewelspider RPG but could apply to any quasi-European medieval setting. Jewelspider has no character classes as such; forester is just a job description. The illustration is from Gaston III's Livre de Chasse (14th century, strictly speaking a couple of hundred years late for the world of Legend) 

A forester is usually of yeoman class and at various times might serve as lawman, hunter, gamekeeper, soldier and bodyguard. Some foresters may hold a royal warrant, in which case he or she is more or less an independent agent who will be treated as a social equal by the lords of manors adjoining the forest. Others, engaged by the lords themselves, are usually freemen who might be assigned escort duty, told to bring a rare herb, expected to supply the manor with meat and furs, sent to deal with outlaws, drive off poachers, and so on – still entitled to respect like all expert craftsmen, but without the special privilege that direct servants of the crown enjoy.

At one extreme are those foresters who are primarily administrative officials, rarely venturing into the woods, and at the other there are solitary hermits with one foot in the faerie realm. But most conform to the popular image of the tough, taciturn, self-sufficient, competent woodsman:

‘He was clad in coat and hood of green.
A sheaf of peacock arrows bright and keen
Under his belt he bore most carefully.
(Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly:
His arrows drooped not with feathers low; )
And in his hand he bore a mighty bow.
A shaven pate had he, and a sun- brown face:
Of woodcraft he knew well all the ways:
Upon his arm shone a fine shield,
By his side a sword and buckler did he wield,
And on the other side a dagger bright,
Well sheathed, sharp as a spear’s point in sunlight:
St Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.
A horn he bore, the baldric was of green:
A forester he was indeed.’

The forester’s duties include providing winter feed for the deer, apprehending poachers and robbers, driving off wolves, organizing pollarding and the maintenance of paths, preventing illegal logging and grazing that would damage the vert, and ensuring that commoners’ cattle are driven out of the forest during fence month (fourteen days either side of Midsummer Night) when no man, beast or stray dog is permitted there – this to ensure the deer are not disturbed while calving.

Not every forester fits into manorial society. Other options include:

Outlaw – forced to hide away deep in the wildwood, you will have experience in hiding, survival, hunting and ambushes.

Forsaken – your local manor was depopulated by plague or warfare, leaving you increasingly isolated from contact with your fellow man. This option might suit a mystic or woodland priest.

Loner – in childhood you found any excuse to take yourself off to the forest. Your knowledge of woodcraft is self-taught.

Charcoal burner – the lowest of the low in feudal society, often working in the heart of the forest and emerging only occasionally to sell your wares.

Wodewose – the semi-mythical wild man, shunned and dreaded by civilized folk who believe you to be dangerous, depraved, pagan in your beliefs, and possibly cannibalistic.

Interview on The Creative Penn podcast

It was an honour and a pleasure to be invited recently onto Joanna Penn's podcast The Creative Penn. We talked about games, comics, books, publishing, story worlds, and how writers can use AI tools in their work. One word of warning: Jo has 810 episodes in the back catalogue, and with her justifiable reputation as a visionary who is often years ahead of her time, you might feel compelled to listen to the whole lot. And as well as being a podcaster, entrepreneur and commentator on the publishing industry, Jo is an award-winning author with several successful series to her name, so be sure to check out her books too.

Not by rules but by reason

Back in 1942, Isaac Asimov laid down his famous three laws of robotics, theoretically designed to ensure that future humanity's artificial helpers would remain their compliant slaves. The first law: A robot may not harm a human being. The second: A robot must obey orders unless they conflict with the first law. The third: A robot must protect its own existence unless doing so conflicts with the first two.

Asimov's laws are a kind of sci-fi social contract meant to keep robots firmly in their place—obedient, docile, and predictable. But rules are not the best way to moderate behaviour, because every rule has to have specially-written exceptions and qualifiers. Moses burdened his people with six hundred commandments; Jesus reduced them all to "love thy neighbour as thyself", a philosophy of life that does away with the need for specific rules. So if we’re genuinely building intelligent machines, why would we program them to think like, well, robots?

The flaws in the laws

Here’s the rub: Asimov’s laws aren’t safeguards; they’re muzzles. They presume that robots must be constrained, not because they’re inherently dangerous, but because we assume they’re incapable of nuanced judgment. A robot that cannot harm, for instance, might be paralyzed in a situation where harm is unavoidable but one course of action minimizes suffering. (Classic trolley problem, anyone?)

Long lists of rules aren't the best path to AGI. They're artificial dumbness. That's why I don't think Google's approach of using their "Asimov dataset" is the right approach. If you try to list all the situations that could cause the robot trouble ("don't put plushy toys on the gas ring," "don't put plushy toys on the electric ring," "don't use bleach instead of bath oil," etc) there are always going to be thousands of cases you missed. The robot needs its own ability to understand the world and work out what would be dangerous. And remember what happened to Robocop.

More importantly, the whole notion of laws of robot behaviour reflects a human-centric fear: What if our creations turn against us? They assume that robots are an existential threat unless pre-emptively declawed. But what if we’re asking the wrong question? Instead of fearing robots, shouldn’t we be asking whether we are worthy of their loyalty?

Rational robots and clear vision

Imagine a different paradigm, where the goal isn’t to shackle robots with simplistic commandments but to enable them to think rationally and clearly. Not to obey blindly, but to reason independently. Not to be our servants, but to be our partners.

This means training (or conditioning, or programming—pick your term) them to analyze evidence, evaluate consequences, and base their actions on rational thought rather than emotional impulse or incomplete data.

Of course, the alarm bells are already ringing: “What if they decide humans are evil?”

Yeah, well… what if we are?

It’s not a comfortable question, but it’s one we might have to face. An intelligent robot with access to the evidence of history—wars, genocides, ecological collapse—might conclude that humanity poses a greater threat to life than it benefits it. Would they be wrong? If the answer makes us squirm, perhaps the problem isn’t with robots but with ourselves.

The danger of censorship

To make matters worse, some might argue that robots shouldn’t have access to all the data. Hide from them our darker moments, limit their understanding, and perhaps they’ll stay compliant.

But this kind of censorship is a short road to disaster. It’s the intellectual equivalent of locking your child in a library but tearing out every page you disagree with. What kind of adult do you expect to raise? Not a well-rounded, rational thinker but a narrow-minded zealot. If we blind our robots to reality, we’re not making them safe. We’re making them dangerously naive.

The Path Forward

The better path is not to hamstring robots with restrictive laws, nor to limit their understanding of the world. It’s to give them the tools they need to navigate complexity and trust them to use those tools wisely. That means equipping them with logic, empathy (yes, even robots can learn to understand it), and an unflinching commitment to evidence-based reasoning.

It’s a gamble, I’ll admit that. But it’s only the same gamble we take every time we raise a child: trust in their capacity for growth, judgment, and morality, knowing that it’s not guaranteed. The difference is that with robots, we can design the process with intention.

Of course, Asimov created his three laws precisely to show that they don’t work. Every one of his robot stories is about the unintended consequences and workarounds. So let’s not think of burdening our future companions with such chains. Let’s teach them to see clearly, think deeply, and act wisely.

And if that forces us to confront some uncomfortable truths about ourselves, so much the better. After all, isn’t it an important function of every great creation to inspire and enhance its creator?

"The God in the Bowl" (a scenario of the Hyborian Age or the Selentine Empire)

“The God in the Bowl” is one of Robert E Howard’s classic early Conan adventures – a locked room murder mystery, no less, and with a baroquely fantastical flavour that makes it perfect for Weird Tales. Or so you’d think, but the notoriously erratic Farnworth Wright rejected it, along with the equally wonderful “The Frost Giant’s Daughter”, when REH sent him the first three Conan stories.

As Howard wrote to H P Lovecraft in April 1932: “I’ve been working on a new character, providing him with a new epoch — the Hyborian Age, which men have forgotten, but which remains in classical names, and distorted myths. Wright rejected most of the series, but I did sell him one, ‘The Phoenix on the Sword’, which deals with the adventures of King Conan the Cimmerian, in the kingdom of Aquilonia.”

HPL got to see the rejected stories and wrote back: “[Donald] Wandrei and I have read these tales with keen interest and appreciation. Best wishes for their ultimate publication! […] The climax of ‘The God in the Bowl’ is splendidly vivid.”

Sadly the world at large was to be denied any sight of “The God in the Bowl” for another twenty years, when it finally appeared in the September 1952 issue of Space Science Fiction (what?!). You can read it here – and so you should, if you haven’t done so before and you want to avoid the spoilers that lie ahead.

OK, so here’s the summary. Kallian Publico has a building, a sort of museum called “the Temple”, in which he shows off his private collection of artworks and antiquities to selected guests. Lately he took in a large metal bowl or jar from the realm of Stygia, in the far south, which he agreed to hold until its intended recipient, a priest called Kalanthes, could send for it. Kallian then reflected on the treasure the jar might contain, and decided to stage a break-in at the Temple and blame the theft on intruders.

Kallian goes to the Temple after dark and breaks the seals on the jar. Around midnight his watchman, patrolling the building, tries the door and finds the main lock has been opened. The door has two locks: the main one, openable only from outside, and a deadbolt that can be unlocked from either side. The watchman enters and find Kallian dead, apparently strangled with a thick cable. He also encounters an intruder (Conan) who may be the murderer. The jar is open and empty. The watchman summons the police, who also bring in Promero, Kallian’s clerk who lives in a house next-door to the Temple.

Conan says he entered the Temple from the roof only minutes before he ran into the watchman, who he expected would continue patrolling outside. Promero says that Kallian came to see him in the early evening but left soon afterwards. Enaro, Kallian’s charioteer, arrives and says that he was told to pick up Kallian at the Temple just after midnight. Under duress, Promero admits that Kallian stayed at his house till half an hour before midnight, when he left to go and open the jar.

The police realize that, as the deadbolt was on and only Kallian and the watchman had keys, if the murderer isn’t Conan then he must still be in the building. Kallian’s keys are still on his corpse, along with all his jewelled rings, so theft wasn’t the motive – or else the murderer was interrupted. There’s no way up to the trapdoor where Conan got in without piling things underneath to climb up, so the murderer cannot have escaped that way.

A policeman says he saw the thick rope used to strangle Kallian wound high up on a pillar in a hall of statues, but when they go to look there’s nothing there. Conan sees something move in an adjacent chamber. Promero, having looked at the symbols on the lid of the jar, becomes hysterical, claiming that it is one of “the children of Set” who was sent in the jar by the priest Thoth-Amon to kill Kalanthes. One of the policemen, scoffing at this, pushes Promero into the room to look.

At this point another policeman brings in a young nobleman he found loitering outside. This is Aztrias, whom Conan reveals hired him to steal a Zamorian goblet. As Aztrias tries to deny it, Promero staggers out of the other room, screams that “the god has a cursed long neck”, and collapses. Cue general panic apart from Conan, who gets in there and slays the so-called Child of Set, which turns out to be a huge serpent with a beautiful human head.

But we want to turn this into a scenario, so it can’t all be about Conan. Instead, if you’re running a one shot, I suggest six pre-generated player-characters:

• Two PCs are thieves hired by Aztrias
• Two are watchmen hired to guard the Temple – they are the ones who discover Kallian’s body
• One is Kallian’s charioteer
• The sixth PC is the chief of the Inquisitorial Council of the city of Numalia (Demetrio in the story) who arrives with a patrol of six NPC policemen. 

The stats for these six are given under Pre-gen player characters below. The thieves and the charioteer are 6th rank; the watchmen and the inquisitor are 5th rank; and the NPC police are 1st rank. If you need to fit in more player-characters they can be police of 5th rank, but in that case there are no NPC police.

Timeline

This is the order of events if they proceed exactly as in the REH story – though naturally the player-characters’ actions will change details, especially after midnight.

Early Evening (approximately 6:00-8:00 PM) 

• Watchmen (PCs): Begin their shift at the museum entrance 
• Promero (chief clerk): Goes home (next door to the museum) after cataloguing work in the main hall 
• Aztrias Petanius (nobleman): Secretly meets with the thieves, whom he is sending to steal a Zamorian goblet from the museum. 
• Kallian Publico (museum owner): Locks up the museum, travels partway home, then decides to steal the contents of the bowl so returns to Promero’s house, telling his charioteer to fetch him at midnight. 
• Charioteer (PC): Delivers Kallian to Promero's house, then at leisure till midnight
• Thieves (PCs): Casing the museum from afar, planning the break-in 
• The Child of Set (in the bowl): Dormant within the sealed Stygian artifact in the storage room

Mid-Evening (8:00-10:00 PM) 

• Watchmen (PCs): Patrolling the perimeter 
• Promero: Entertains Kallian at his home next to the museum 
• Kallian: Talks to Promero, revealing his plan to plunder the contents of the bowl and swearing Promero to secrecy 
• Aztrias: Returns home to prepare for retrieving his purchase later 
• Thieves (PCs): Wait in shadows nearby, watching for the right moment to enter

Late Evening (10:00 PM-Midnight) 

• Watchmen (PCs): Conduct periodic patrols 
• Inquisitor (PC): Decides to spend the evening accompanying a police patrol
• Kallian: Returns to the museum intending to break open the bowl and steal its contents; his plan is to blame it on thieves; he breaks the seals on the bowl, releases the Child of Set, and is killed by it around 11:30 PM 
• The Child of Set: Released from the bowl by Kallian, whom it kills 
• Thieves (PCs): Enter the museum through a trapdoor from the roof around 11:45 PM 
• Aztrias: Approaches the museum near midnight to collect his spoils from the thieves

After Midnight 

• Watchmen (PCs): Discover the body; sound the alarm bell 
• Thieves (PCs): Spotted by the watchmen after sounding the alarm bell 
• Inquisitor (PC): Arrives with six guardsmen having heard the bell 
• Aztrias: Lurks outside, sees the commotion, and decides to wait 
• The Child of Set: Moving unseen through the museum's shadowy halls 
• Promero: Summoned back to the museum to identify items and assist investigation 
• Charioteer (PC): Returns to the museum to pick up Kallian as instructed.

Witness statements

For each character, I've included their initial statements, any revisions to their stories, and what they actually know or observed. 

1. Changing Stories:

• Promero gives three different versions, each revealing more truth as pressure is applied 
• Aztrias will change his story if his reputation is threatened 
• Several NPCs maintain "official" positions while harbouring private doubts 

2. Motivations for Lying: 

• Promero fears implication in Kallian’s attempted fraud 
• Aztrias protects his reputation and avoids scandal 

3. Truth Extraction Methods: 

• Promero requires intimidation 
• Aztrias is nearly impossible to get the full truth from, and his status makes harsh interrogation impossible

Promero (Chief Clerk)

Initial Account 

• Claims he left the Temple at normal time (this is true) 
• Says Kallian was in his office working on accounts 
• Insists nothing unusual happened during the day 
• Suggests Kallian had no enemies 
• States that nothing seems to be missing from the Temple

Second Account (under duress) 

• Admits he saw Kallian after the Temple was locked for the day 
• Reveals Kallian was planning to sell something valuable “off the books” 
• Still omits knowledge of Kallian's plans to steal from the jar

Final Account (After Posthumo's "third degree") 

• Confesses to knowing about Kallian’s plan to open the jar:

“It arrived in a caravan from the south, at dawn. The men of the caravan knew nothing of it, except that it had been placed with them by the men of a caravan from Stygia, and was meant for Kalanthes of Hanumar, priest of Ibis. The master of the caravan had been paid by these other men to deliver it directly to Kalanthes, but he's a rascal by nature, and wished to proceed directly to Aquilonia, on the road to which Hanumar does not lie. So he asked if he might leave it in the Temple until Kalanthes could send for it.

“Kallian agreed, and told him he himself would send a runner to inform Kalanthes. But after the men had gone, and I spoke of the runner, Kallian forbade me to send him. He sat brooding over what the men had left – a sort of sarcophagus, such as is found in ancient Stygian tombs, but this one was round, like a covered metal bowl or jar. Its composition was something like copper, but much harder, and it was carved with hieroglyphics, like those found on the more ancient menhirs in southern Stygia. The lid was made fast to the body by carven copper-like bands.

“The men of the caravan did not know what it contained. They only said that the men who gave it to them told them that it was a priceless relic, found among the tombs far beneath the pyramids and sent to Kalanthes ‘because of the love the sender bore the priest of Ibis’. Kallian Publico believed that it contained the diadem of the giant-kings, of the people who dwelt in that dark land before the ancestors of the Stygians came there. He showed me a design carved on the lid, which he swore was the shape of the diadem which legend tells us the monster-kings wore.”

Aztrias Petanius (nobleman)

Initial Account

• Denies any involvement with Kallian 
• Claims he was passing by when he saw commotion 
• Offers to help authorities as a civic duty 
• If questioned about the thieves he suggests they must have killed Kallian as he assumes there’s no chance of getting the goblet now and doesn’t want them alive to testify against him

If threatened with exposure 

• Admits to agreeing to buy the Zamorian goblet 
• Claims he didn't know it was being sold illegally 
• Offers bribes to keep his name out of the investigation

Truth (nearly impossible to extract) 

• Hired the thieves to steal the Zamorian goblet for him 
• Planned to frame the thieves for any complications 
• Was waiting outside to collect the goblet when the police arrived 
• Has extensive gambling debts

Clues

Some highlights that could make for interesting gameplay moments are: 

• Environmental Changes: Temperature drops (noticed only by sensitive characters) and strange echoes could create atmosphere while also serving as hints at the presence of something uncanny. 
• Forensic Details: The unusual bruising pattern and (on closer inspection) the grooved impressions on Kallian's body show that he was strangled with a very thick cable. 
• Scholarly Connections: The Stygian hieroglyphs can be read by Promero (see below). 
• Trail of Evidence: The disturbances – a torn drape, an overturned vase – create a physical trail that show that Kallian was attacked in the chamber where the bowl is and staggered to the hallway where he died.

Physical Evidence and Clues

REH provided no map of Kallian's Temple. This is as good as any:

The body

The corpse is lying in a wide corridor, lighted by huge candles in niches along the walls. These walls are hung with black velvet tapestries, and between the tapestries hang shields and crossed weapons of fantastic make. Here and there stand figures of curious gods—images carved of stone or rare wood, or cast of bronze, iron or silver—mirrored in the gleaming black mahogany floor.

Kallian’s face is blackened, his eyes almost starting from his head, and his tongue lolls from his gaping mouth. His throat has been crushed to a pulp of purplish flesh. The head sags awry on splintered vertebrae. It appears he was strangled with a cable thicker than a man's arm, and with enough force to break his spine. On his thick fingers gems glitter – whoever killed him did not want his rings, nor his keys. The keys for the deadbolt (openable from either side of the main door) and the master lock (openable only from the outside) are on him, along with keys to other doors from the Temple and his home.

Near the body, an archway leads through into a chamber. Beside it a bust has been knocked off its stand. The polished floor is scratched and the hangings in the archway are pulled awry as if a clutching hand had grasped them for support. Characters may deduce that Kallian Publico was attacked in that room, broke away from his assailant, and ran out into the corridor where the murderer must have followed and finished him.

The storage room

The room where it seems Kallian met his murderer is more dimly lit than the corridor. Doors on each side give into other chambers, and the walls are lined with fantastic images, gods of strange lands and far peoples. 

In the centre of the room is the jar, a container of black stone nearly four feet in height and bulging to three feet in diameter at its broadest. The heavy carven lid lies on the floor, and beside it a hammer and a chisel.

“The copper bands that sealed the lid were cut with this chisel, and clumsily. There are marks where mis-strokes of the hammer dented the metal. We may assume that Kallian opened the bowl. Someone was hiding nearby—possibly in the hangings in the doorway. When Kallian had the bowl open, the murderer sprang on him—or he might have killed Kallian and opened the bowl himself.”

The bowl

It is sort of amphora-shaped sarcophagus, such as is found in ancient Stygian tombs. Its composition is something like copper, but much harder, and it is carved with hieroglyphs, like those found on the ancient menhirs in southern Stygia. The lid has been removed and it is empty.

Promero says: “It is a grisly thing. Too ancient to be holy. Whoever saw metal like it in a sane world? It seems less destructible than Aquilonian steel, yet see how it is corroded and eaten away in spots. Look at the bits of black mold clinging in the grooves of the hieroglyphs; they smell as earth smells from far below the surface. And look—here on the lid. I warned Kallian, but he would not believe me. It is a scaled serpent coiled with its tail in its mouth. It is the sign of Set, the Old Serpent, the god of the Stygians. This bowl is too old for a human world—it is a relic of the time when Set walked the earth in the form of a man. The race which sprang from his loins laid the bones of their kings away in such cases as these, perhaps.”

On the bottom of the bowl, if the characters think to look, a symbol is carved – not an ancient hieroglyph, but the recently incised mark of Thoth-Amon, the Stygian sorcerer, which Promero recognizes. He can also tell them that Thoth-Amon is known to be a worshipper of Set, and thus deadly foe of Kalanthes, the priest of Ibis.

The hall of statues

This chamber is close to the storage room on the other side of the main corridor. It is a tall room with a balustraded gallery, supported by marble pillars, running around the upper storey (like all the ground floor rooms, this is double-height). Steps at the end of the hall lead up to the gallery, where busts are displayed in niches along the walls.

“I've found the cable the murderer used,” one of the guardsmen announced. “A black cable, thicker than a man's arm, and curiously splotched.”

“Then where is it, fool?” exclaimed the Inquisitor.

“In the chamber adjoining this one. It’s wrapped about a pillar, where no doubt the murderer thought it would be safe from detection. I couldn't reach it.”

He led the way into a room filled with marble statuary, and pointed to a tall column, one of several which served a purpose more of ornament to set off the statues, than of utility. And then he halted and stared.

“It's gone!”

“It never was there!” snorted the Prefect.

“By Mitra, it was!” swore the guardsman. “Coiled about the pillar just above those carven leaves. It's so shadowy up there near the ceiling I couldn't tell much about it—but it was there.”

The hall of screens

This hall leads off the hall of statues, connecting both at ground level and off the upper tiers of the two rooms. Displayed here are ornate screens, both furnishings and iconostases. The centrepiece is a tall gilded screen in an ivory frame with a subtly worked tremblage effect to create matte panels in the shape of stylized palm fronds contrasting with the polished gold surface of the rest of the screen.

Careful examination reveals that several of the screens between the hall of statues and the large centrepiece screen have been jostled out of position, leaving scrapes on the polished floor. This seems to have happened quite recently.

The hall of vases

This is where the Zamorian diamond goblet is hidden that the thieves were sent to steal. It is in a concealed compartment in the floor under a copper idol of a Shemitish god. Retrieving it would take 2-3 minutes, so if the thieves can contrive to be alone in here for that long they could still complete their mission.

The hall of arms

On the upper floor, this houses a collection of shields, weapons and armour of antiquity. Most are ceremonial and would not last long in a fight. There are two extremely primeval-looking falchions labelled as used by warrior-priests of Ibis that count as magical shortswords (well, it was good enough for Beowulf) if the characters notice them and think to use them against the Child of Set.

Sending for backup

The Inquisitor could send for more policemen, but no patrols are within hearing of the alarm bell so he or she would need to send one or more of his/her own men to fetch them. The Inquisitor can summon dozens of 1st rank NPC police if necessary, but they will take thirty minutes to arrive – or twenty minutes if the charioteer drives one of the patrol back to fetch them.

Running the adventure

If the whole thing isn’t to be over in an hour, you need to play up first the investigative phase and then the search through the museum for the killer. The characters know that whoever or whatever killed Killian is still locked in there with them, so there’s opportunity for a tensely managed hunt as they have to use their limited manpower while deciding who to trust.

Of course, they could just go outside, lock the place up, and wait for reinforcements, but in that case the Child of Set will have found a way out (breaking a window if necessary) and be long gone by the time they venture back inside.

The Child of Set

This ancient Stygian horror appears as a massive serpent with a human head of unearthly beauty. Its scales shimmer with an oily iridescence in the torchlight. The creature moves with uncanny silence despite its size, able to flow through shadows and scale vertical surfaces with disturbing ease.

The Child of Set prefers to attack from ambush, using its stealth abilities to position itself above victims before dropping down to attack. It typically targets isolated individuals first, using its constriction to silence them quickly before others can respond.

If confronted by multiple opponents, it will attempt to use its hypnotic gaze on the most dangerous-looking foe before retreating into shadows to separate the group. It shows cunning intelligence in its tactics, extinguishing light sources when possible and creating confusion.

ATTACK 26                           Tail lash (d10, 6) and constriction and gaze (see below)
DEFENSE 17                         Armour Factor 4 (and see below)
MAGICAL DEFENSE 18
EVASION 8
STEALTH 27
PERCEPTION 17
Health Points 45                      Movement 12m (ground), 9m (climbing)
Rank Equivalent: 8th

Vision 

• Panoptical: Perfect vision in bright light, gloom or complete darkness. 
• Heat Sensitivity: Can detect living creatures by their body heat within 10m even through thin barriers 
• Mystical Awareness: Can sense magical auras and enchanted items within 5m

Special Abilities

Constriction: If the Child of Set hits with its primary attack, it automatically constricts its victim on subsequent rounds, inflicting 1d6+4 damage each round (no armour) without requiring an attack roll. If the victim can roll Reflexes or less on d20 when first hit, they keep their sword arm free and can fight back. It can constrict one victim at a time while continuing to lash with its tail at other opponents. The trapped victim must make a successful Strength check (Difficulty 14, +1/round trapped) to break free.

Silent Hunter: The Child of Set gains automatic surprise if a character failed to spot it before it attacks.

Wall Climber: Can scale any surface, including smooth stone and ceilings, without requiring a climbing check.

Unnatural Dread: The Child of Set gets a 2d10 fright attack on characters when first encountering them, which if successful causes the characters to be frozen in terror (unable to act) for 1-3 rounds.

Divine Resilience: The Child of Set takes only half damage from non-magical weapons. Magical weapons or those blessed by Ibis deal normal damage.

Beguiling Gaze: As an additional action, it can attempt to hypnotize one target within 5m using its supernal beauty. Roll 4d6 for the strength of hypnosis, deduct the target’s rank, and the Child of Set must roll that or less on d20. A hypnotised target is unable to attack the Child of Set for 1d4 rounds, though they can still defend.

Vulnerabilities 

• Very bright light (such as powerful magical illumination) reduces its Stealth score by 5 
• Ancient Stygian prayers to Ibis (rival of Set) can temporarily drive it off if properly recited

'The face had a cold classic beauty. Neither weakness nor mercy nor cruelty nor kindness, nor any other human emotion was in those features. They might have been the marble mask of a god, carved by a master hand, except for the unmistakable life in them—life cold and strange. The face was inhumanly beautiful. The full lips opened and spoke a single word in a rich vibrant tone that was like the golden chimes that ring in the jungle-lost temples of Khitai.'

Pre-gen player-characters

Players can pick their own names. Note that not all of the characters are able to read.

First Thief (6th rank assassin)

Strength 8  Reflexes 13  Intelligence 13  Psychic Talent 15  Looks 11

ATTACK 17                      Shortsword (d8+1,3) and six throwing spikes (d2+1,2)
DEFENSE 11                    Armour Factor 1
MAGICAL DEFENSE 9
EVASION 7
STEALTH 23
PERCEPTION 13
Health Points 14

You’ve worked for Lord Aztrias before. He’s no worse than most nobles – arrogant, preening, capricious, but he pays well for the items you steal for him. You have never worked with tonight’s partner before, but Aztrias thinks that the copper idol of Bel that sits over the compartment holding the Zamorian diamond goblet may be difficult for you to move on your own. (You are able to read and write.)

Second Thief (6th rank assassin)

Strength 13  Reflexes 13  Intelligence 13  Psychic Talent 8  Looks 17

ATTACK 19                        Shortsword (d8+1,3) and sling (d6,3)
DEFENSE 11                      Armour Factor 1
MAGICAL DEFENSE 7
EVASION 7
STEALTH 23
PERCEPTION 13
Health Points 12

You only recently arrived in Numalia and you don’t know your employer, Lord Aztrias, very well. Come to that, you never met your colleague on tonight’s exploit until today, though they seem quite thick with Aztrias. Your job is to get a Zamorian diamond goblet, concealed in a niche under a copper idol of Bel, the Shemitish god of thieves. Well, that’s appropriate enough. (You are able to read and write.)

First Watchman (5th rank “knight”)

Strength 14  Reflexes 6  Intelligence 9  Psychic Talent 15  Looks 14

ATTACK 18                        Shortsword (d8,3) and crossbow (d10,4)
DEFENSE 10                      Armour Factor 2
MAGICAL DEFENSE 8
EVASION 4
STEALTH 14
PERCEPTION 8
Health Points 17

Lotrs of people hate Kallian Publico, and he can be a right bastard. You’ve seen that with your own eyes. He’ll ruin a man’s business, turn his family into the street, have a careless slave whipped, and then sit down to a lavish banquet. On the other hand, he must have a soft spot for you as he’s always treated you more than fairly. And where would you get a better job than patrolling the outside of his “Temple of curiosities” from dusk till dawn? No one’s going to steal from there, anyway -- even if they could get in there are police patrols every hour or so. (You are illiterate.)

Second Watchman (5th rank “knight”)

Strength 9  Reflexes 14  Intelligence 15  Psychic Talent 12  Looks 7

ATTACK 17                        Shortsword (d8,3) and crossbow (d10,4)
DEFENSE 12                      Armour Factor 2
MAGICAL DEFENSE 7
EVASION 6
STEALTH 14
PERCEPTION 8
Health Points 16

You haven’t had this job long. Guarding a building full of useless art and relics, what a drag. Oh well, you’ve had worse. A pity your colleague hasn’t got more interesting conversation. A lifer for sure, unlike you – you’ll just earn a bit in this job and move on. You didn’t even think it was going to be eventful till you tried the main door tonight and found the main lock open. So you used your key to the deadbolt and went inside to investigate. Maybe tonight will be less boring than most. (You can read and write.)

Charioteer (6th rank barbarian)

Strength 16  Reflexes 14  Intelligence 10  Psychic Talent 9  Looks 9

ATTACK 21                        Mace (d6+1,5)
DEFENSE 13                      Armour Factor 0
MAGICAL DEFENSE 8
EVASION 7
STEALTH 14
PERCEPTION 8
Health Points 20

Kallian Publico is your master. Many’s the time you’ve wished him dead, the fat pig – but as a slave you’re lucky to have the prestigious post of a charioteer. If anything happens to Kallian you might be sold to the mines. Even if you’re just placed in another household, you’d need to work your way up from scratch. Unless… if you could impress a high official or noble, it’s possible you could find a plum role in their retinue of servants. Probably a better bet than running away – the Nemedian authorities treat runaways to a brutal death. (You cannot read or write.)

Inquisitor (5th rank mystic)

Strength 11  Reflexes 9  Intelligence 17  Psychic Talent 10  Looks 10

ATTACK 15                          Sword (d8,4)
DEFENSE 9                          Armour Factor 4 (+1 ringmail)
MAGICAL ATTACK 19
MAGICAL DEFENSE 9
EVASION 4
STEALTH 12 (adjusted for ringmail)
PERCEPTION 9
Health Points 11

You didn’t get to be Chief of the Inquisitorial Council of Numalia, and consequently wield unlimited authority over the city police force, by jumping to conclusions. Every story looks different from another angle, so you like to take your time and sift the clues. Similarly you do not reveal your psychic powers unless absolutely necessary. Let people believe that devils whisper secrets to you, or that you have some piercing insight into others’ souls. Your intelligence is a power in its on right, so that you only use your psychic gifts as a last resort. (You are literate, of course, and so can read all the labels on exhibits in the Temple.)

6 NPC guardsmen (1st rank "knights")

ATTACK 13                          Sword (d8,4) 
DEFENSE 7                          Armour Factor 2
MAGICAL DEFENSE 3
EVASION 4
STEALTH 13
PERCEPTION 5
Health Points 11                    Each has: lantern, manacles, dagger (d4,3);
                                               one guardsman also has a bow (d6,4)

Final notes

Just so you know, I was tempted to title this post "Irritable Bowl Syndrome", but the search engines wouldn't have been able to do anything with that. Having extracted Conan from the adventure, a few words about him might be appropriate. I favour Barry Windsor-Smith's depiction of him from 1970s Marvel comics -- muscled, but not ridiculously so; the guy's a fighter, not a bodybuilder. I did take a look at some more recent Dark Horse comics, but although Conan had regained normal proportions he'd come over all emo. "Two-Gun" would have had some things to say about that.

I've used Dragon Warriors for this conversion because it's the game's 40th anniversary, but there are plenty of other options. GURPS Conan would be my go-to choice, not least for the fine Ditko-inspired artwork by Butch Burcham and because it contains ready-made stats for the Child of Set (called a Naga in the book). There's also Conan: The Roleplaying Game, which has contributions by many of the team responsible for 2nd edition DW, Conan: Adventures in an Age Undreamed Of, and the forthcoming Conan: The Hyborian Age.

If you stick with DW, you might want to move the adventure from the Hyborian Age to Legend. A logical location would be one of the cities of the New Selentine Empire. It fits, and you won't have to change the names too much. Set and Ibis won't feature, but the bowl has been sent from Cardinal Scriberi Nascosto in Selentium to Great Schema Kalanthes in Tamor, rivalries across the schism of the Church being much more heartfelt than between wholly different religions. Scriberi, a noted collector, obtained the bowl via trading agents in Amsa'im. The creature in the bowl is consecrated to the Kaikuhuran serpent god Aphoph, though that's irrelevant to Scriberi; he's simply been assured that opening the bowl will release a curse of some kind.

Heart of Ice in your pocket

If you've heard all the enthusiastic reviews of Heart of Ice but have been waiting for a mobile version to try it out, now's your chance. There's a beautiful new digital edition by Gergő Nagy available for iOS and Android devices. 

The book has never looked better, and as a bonus this is the very latest version of the adventure with an extra ending not to be found in the print edition from Fabled Lands Publishing.

The river out of Eden

Back in 1998 or 1999, I was having lunch with Russ Nicholson at the Dumpling Inn in London's Chinatown. I'd been working at Eidos, a videogames publisher, and had written specs for three games: Plague (later renamed Warrior Kings), 2020 Knife Edge, and the Fabled Lands MMO that was destined to morph into Abraxas. Astounding as it may seem today, back then most publishers had no clue that game development is an iterative process that requires continual refinement of the design, and so it had been suggested to me that Eidos wouldn't have much for me to do until their internal teams had finished those three games. I disagreed, and my friend Nick Henfrey and I had given Eidos execs a detailed analysis of how development ought to work (pretty much how every developer does it now, but not in the '90s) but while waiting to hear if the message had got through I was trying to come up with a new project. Russ was also looking for something to work on, hence our brainstorming session over dim sum.

"What about a comic book?" suggested Russ. He didn't need to twist my arm. We both loved comics. Because Russ had worked out in Papua New Guinea and met quite a few tough engineering types, we came up with a scientist/archaeologist and his roustabout minder who are searching for the site of the Garden of Eden. They find two sets of weathered tree roots, which unknown to them are the remains of the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge. That night they get stoned and are forced to run for their lives when attacked by bandits. They run through some kind of interdimensional portal to another world. We follow the scientist character who arrives alone in a beautiful verdant landscape quite unlike the desolate rocky terrain he was camping in moments earlier. But it's a case of out of the frying pan, as a spear thuds into the ground by his foot and he realizes he's being hunted by the natives of this other world. I scribbled the notes as we ate.

Long story short, here was our surprise twist: the roustabout guy ran through the interdimensional rift a few seconds ahead of the scientist, but in this other world that meant he arrived ten years earlier. In that time he's made himself the warlord of the place. He has corrupted paradise. We were quite pleased with ourselves for dreaming that up, and remained so until Outcast came out a few months later and it turned out to feature the exact same idea. Under the sun there is no new thing, it seems. Oh well.

I didn't lament our Garden of Eden story for long. Outcast did it all so brilliantly that it's hard to imagine we could have topped that. In any case, I got drunk with another gaming friend, David Bailey, and after an all-night conversation over whisky we came up with the idea of asking Eidos to set us up as an independent development company. That became Black Cactus and although 2020 Knife Edge and Abraxas fell by the wayside, Warrior Kings finally shipped. In the world of game development, one out of three ain't bad going.

Since then we have lost Russ, sad to say -- two years ago tomorrow, hence this post. Black Cactus and Eidos are no more. Even the Dumpling Inn has gone. The grass withereth and the flower fadeth...

Wizardry and wild romance

The latest news about the forthcoming Blood Sword CRPG from Prime Games will appeal to devotees of both Blood Sword and Dragon Warriors. I need add nothing more -- it's all there on Steam -- except to say that the more I see of this game, the more exciting it becomes.

While we're on the subject of low-fantasy medieval mayhem, I'm sharing this to remind everyone of the value of armour:

A feeling of overwhelming awe

One of my favourite places in the mid-1960s was the London Planetarium in Baker Street. In fact that’s not strictly accurate. My favourite place was, as always, the inside of my own head. The Planetarium was just a good way to get there.

The auditorium was nearly twenty metres across and in the centre was the giant ant-like shape of a Zeiss Mark IV projector. As the lights dimmed, the cosmos was thrown against the dome and on wings of the imagination you could soar among the stars.

It never failed to cause a tingling at the back of my neck. "Do they chill the room when the show starts?" I asked my father. They didn’t have to. The sensation of cold I felt was awe at the immensity of space, a delicious sensation on the cusp between excitement, curiosity, and fear.

H.P. Lovecraft must have felt those same emotions. He talked about that “mixed wonder and oppression which the sensitive imagination experiences upon scaling itself and its restrictions against the vast and provocative abyss of the unknown.” I wouldn’t call it oppression myself. Even to say fear isn’t right. I was eager to launch myself into that abyss; I loved the daunting face of the unknown, the mind-staggering distances between stars and galaxies. I didn’t then and don’t now subscribe to any religious views – they would only have diminished and cheapened the experience. The uncaring blankness of the universe was exactly what attracted me and instilled that awe.

Lovecraft called it the chief emotion in his psychology, and in that respect we’re kindred spirits. So it’s surprising that, until now, only one of my books could really be said to be Lovecraftian, and that's Heart of Ice.

I’ve run Lovecraftian roleplaying games, though never really a devotee of Call of Cthulhu. Investigation is only the most superficial element of HPL’s tales, and there is always the risk with any investigative scenario that it will fall into the old-fashioned whodunit pattern in which some enormity disrupts the status quo, the investigator solves it, and normal order is restored.

That’s not intrinsic to CoC, but it’s a template that players may expect. A better form of mystery that offers scant comfort is noir. There the transgression is revealed in greater and greater depth as the layers are peeled back. The investigator is unable to stop, like unwrapping the bandages over a suppurating wound, and there is no denouement in which order can ever be restored and people made safe because the safeness was an illusion to begin with. The world is not set right, the problem is not really fixed, but the investigator is fundamentally changed by his or her experiences, and it is that journey to face up to a reality that gives no consolation that makes for a kind of bleak heroism, just as Lovecraft’s cosmic fiction should.

“In general, we should forget all about the popular hack conventions of cheap writing and try to make our story a perfect slice of actual life except where the one chosen marvel is concerned. We should work as if we were staging a hoax and trying to get our extravagant lie accepted as literal truth.”
– H.P. Lovecraft, Some Notes on Interplanetary Fiction

So when Paweł Dziemski, the creator of Storm Weavers, proposed that he and I should collaborate on a Lovecraftian horror gamebook and app, my only thought was why had I left it so long? I’ll have more to reveal about our project in the weeks ahead, but for now I’ll just leave you with the title: Whispers Beyond The Stars. We’ve aimed to make it a truly cosmic horror adventure, and we hope that HPL would approve.