Feed the Witch’s Bloodflowers

Feed the Witch’s Bloodflowers

You have successfully journeyed to and petitioned to gain audience to the Seer Witch of the Violet Fens; she greets you and leads you forward into her garden where she stops to show you her BLOODFLOWERS.

A 20x30 patch of red and black flowering plants, appearing as somewhat oversized /exaggerated rose petals surrounding a pink and black orchid’s inner workings. They are warm to the touch (she says) and they reach for her hands when she gestures over them.  She claims that some have been pleased to flatter her by ‘feeding’ her flower beds.

The stems wave in the non-existent wind and gently meeping if you approach to ‘feed’ them.

What do you feed them?

1	Water – HOW DIRTY IS THE WATER? (If not known determine by %) If water is more than 67% dirty, then her flowers immediately dissolved into putrid brown and purple mud.  The Fen Witch is now super honked off and throws 9d6 of lightning at d5 members of your party, conveniently standing in a line up unless specifically and previously stated otherwise.  Roll init.  The Fen Witch should be pretty tough – equal to an 11th level magic-user or thereabouts.   Most of her magic involves throwing curses, weaponized bad luck, and gruesome transformations your way.  Also elements.  Speaking of, on her next attack, she ignites anything mundane and flammable the party is carrying or, you know, wearing. D3 points of damage the first round, d2 the second, and one point the final round if they are still peeling out of flaming robes etc. If water is less than 67% dirty then the flowers turn chalky white.   Immediately a 10x10 thundercloud appears over the PCs and dispenses life giving rainwater.   If 01-32% dirty then 3d8 points of damage are healed by the single round rain shower.   If 33-46 % dirty then 2d6 points are so healed, and if 46-66% dirty then 1d6 of healing rain ensues. UNLESS HOLY WATER, then 0% dirty – The flowers sizzle and crack like frying bacon on contact with the now smoldering vapor that was your holy water.  In an instant the whole mass dissolves into a puddle of greenish, putrid slime.  The Fen Which, meanwhile, polymorphs (or perhaps De-polymorphs) into (or from) the shape of Be-Nighel, least angel of guardian forces, a 12 foot battle maiden resplendent in shimmering celestial armor of mithril and cobalt.   Smiling in acknowledgment she claims “You have passed the test, sinful mortals.” And immediately gates you to the source of what you seek, answering any other question within her purview honestly in the meantime.  Anyone foolish enough to attack even a least angel will be counter attacked by a 12 HD creature who strikes with the Holy, Avenging, and Vorpal qualities.  Once she collects the offender’s head, she disappears, gone forever. Did you feed it unholy water?  Wow really?  You’ll go far and then you’ll die bad.  With an exultant cry in low-middling Barazhad of I’M FREE The flowers immediately fuse into Dionaeheus Drosaria, known else as  FLARGNIVIGORTH the FLORAL CATASTROPHIE, (AC -2 / 22 HD 10 HP around 60; immune to non-magical missiles and non-magical fire.) who in one single attack springs, eats, and consumes the Fen Witch.  “How can its Floral Dreadfulness assist you mortal? “ The abyssal arch druid can do almost anything involving demon flowers.
2	Milk – Cow’s Milk?  Hundreds of tiny little mouths audibly slurp up that which was meant for calves.  The witch nods once and sees to your question.   If Hathor or another cow goddess exists in your campaign, you may have just honked Her off. Goat’s Milk?   Better.  It turns blue when it splashes over the bloody rose petals and is rapidly absorbed into the thing.  Meanwhile its stalk grows several inches over a few minutes time. Mare’s Milk – the milk itself recoils from the flower petals as though a living thing.  Tendrils from the inner folds of the flower snap out and audibly suck the milk from mid-air where it attempts to flee with a scream. (Yes this is just as surreal as it sounds.)  Mother’s Milk – human milk? I’m not going ask why you’re carrying that around in a wineskin but whatever.  The flowers hungrily devour it directly, the veins noticeably swelling to absorb every drop.  Secretly, the donor is given one (demonic) wish.
3	Wine – IS IT WATERED?  Y/N Yes  - That which fed the offending liquid is consumed in a fireball of spontaneous human (or elven, dwarfen, etc.) combustion; 10d6 of stinky gas blasting organic residue erupt from the feeder, likely (at least) splitting them in half, if not making them explode outright. If less than 0 hp remain, then after the fireball (which lights nothing else on fire) only charred bits of teeth and bone remain.  No - The flowers drink it, as though they possessed a mouth, esophagus and so on. You have no idea how they are doing it but they consume as much as you feed. If you have wine remaining they seem to “follow” you until you leave the area.   The witch smiles and answers your questions.
4	Blood – the most obvious…save that they don’t drink blood. You pour the stuff of life itself uselessly over the succulent, fleshy blood petals.  The witch laughs at you. She will tell you nothing and your quest has failed.   You are teleported home (1 in 6) or (5 in 6) to room (roll a d24) in the Judge’s favorite scenario or adventure.  IF this makes no goddam sense either roll with it or have the whole thing be a pollen induced hallucination that wears off in d12 rooms’ worth of encounters. Either way you keep the XP. Either way, if you’re dead, you die.  If you still care about your quest thereafter, the witch will tell you what you wish to know and offer to transport you there via scrying portal or giant bird-demon.
5	Mead – You lucky soul you.  You are either very lucky, very wise, or very very favored by the Gods (assuming there is a meaningful distinction anyway).  The open petals of the flower or flowers so anointed turn a shade of golden-amber immediately.   The Floral Abomination has not had a drink in SOOOO LOOOONG and certainly not Godsblessed mead.  When the mead-donor next dies, they will immediately be reborn d24 hours later as a PC possible class possessing half their current experience points but not necessarily as their original class or race (or gender, or age, or sex, or ethnicity, or any other such thing).
6	Not a Damn Thing – Smart.  Also safe and so not very daring. Not at all. Your next expenditure of luck will cost double as a reminder to take the occasional risk you so-called adventurer you.

ALIENS!

Some not very specific OSR foolishness; use in fantasy, sf, espionage, gangsters, whatever you want to do.  

Say hello to the head of the Centauri First Contact team.

"So you are relaxed or on your back or in someone’s lap, but you are somewhere they told you was safe so you can talk about what happened.  It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

So you tell us, what happened? "

Add to character at chargen, or to fill in background, or add randomly to NPCs. Go nuts. Do whatever.

How much do you remember?

1. Almost nothing. This is bullshit.  There has to be a rational explanation
2. If (God) wanted you to know, you would not have forgotten.  IT is in their hands now.
3. Bits and pieces. Images mostly.  Terrifying.
4. You see them in EVERYTHING.  You are fearful and maybe becoming paranoid.  You remember more than you want.  PROTECT THE CHILDREN!
5. What aliens?  Those were guys in rubber suits.  THAT guy was smoking FFS.  What’s REALLY going on, man?
6. My friend I have just had one HELL of an acid flashback..
7. *tentatively reaching out to the speaker*  I will tell you what happened but you will not believe me
8. They beamed images directly into your mind. Birds of fire and many disasters. You are special. They wouldn’t lie.
9. They will return. They have always been here.
10. We are livestock.

Who are the aliens who rebuilt you?

1. Eyes. the eyes, those fUCKING EYES I can’t get them out of my head
2. Small, slim bodied gray skinned featureless humanoids in bodysuits, no wait, those are just the tools.  Who are the ALIENS?
3. Joints shouldn’t BEND THAT WAY aach like a bug LIKE A BUG
4. Hoses and pipes and too many eyes and it’s a suit it’s a suit so many hands
5. A commanding …..female? Voice. Guiding.  Telling you what to do and think and feel.  The details fade.  She is old though. OLD.
6. Just like me, but a little taller, a lot healthier, and idealized.   With long hair.  Always with long hair.
7. Dripping slime...and enormous segmented slugs everywhere.  OH GOD
8. Glittering white-wrapped alien angels; they radiate cold benevolence but assure you they are on the side of Light.   Your clothes are brefit of all colour thereafter.
9. Blue...very very female.  Or maybe ‘womanly’ would be more appropriate considering.  Regardless, You are as livestock to them.  You have a purpose and that is all. You are treated as an animal.  You wish so much they would not.  They do not speak but seem to communicate another way.
10. Enormous swollen heads, tiny sunken eyes, and many pseudopods, wriggling in green alien soil.   The foul vapour they extrude smelling of marsh stank.  DON’T LET THEM TOUCH YOU
11. It took your body, leaving you here like this. Somewhere in the world right now it runs around wearing your face and among your people.  Do something about that.
12. Cutting. Pain.   Only voices and metal.   The Doctors assure you all is well.  You always wake when they cut into your eyes.

What did the aliens do to you?

1. They put things inside you. You still don’t know what they are all for.  
1. 1d4 weapons
2. 1d3 biomechanical infections that mimic spells from the DCC rulebook
3. There is another...you inside.  You avoid mirrors and reflective surfaces make you uncomfortable. You have been hypnotranced into not thinking about them but sometimes you black out and the other one does things. For them. Sometimes many weeks go by.
4. For a time you carried one of their unholy hybrid things.  Shortly before deciding to do something about it you had an episode of missing time and it was gone.  You have unusual scars.
5. You have, unbeknownst to you, a set of “trained muscle memories” that allow operation of their spacecraft, technology, and language under certain prescribed circumstances.   The Judge will inform you when you encounter such as you will recognize it immediately.
6. Sleep.  You sometimes sleep for as long as 60 or 70 hours at a time and are always tired. You can’t think straight.  Your dreams involve lots of repetitive numbers.  It’s like they are using your head for drive storage.
2. A long and involved physical examination that was frequently humiliating and gross.  Following was a bizarre picture game exchange that made very little sense to you but fired many religious and sexual images into your brain directly.  You sometimes still get warm thoughts thinking about the thoughts they gave you.    You probably are not the same alignment you used to be.
3. The pink laser is slowly tunneling its way through the perception filters to show you the world as it really is.   The Solid State Conspiracy will FALL!  Destroy the Beast whenever you encounter it or it’s servitors.  FREE THE MINDS
4. Your avatar keeps telling you this is just an episode of quiet. Be calm and it will pass but DO NOT INTERACT WITH IT MAGE.  M@dn355 w@1+5
5. You are a crystal-magik killborg.  At unexpected intervals you will receive a signal telling you to KILL EM ALL for some inscrutable alien purpose. At that time one arm becomes a jagged black crystalaser (+6 to hit, 3d6 plus paralysation), one eye becomes a photoscopic x-ray laser (fires beams of negative energy that drain 1d4 hp and 1d6 ability points permanently) while your chest becomes your Heart Gun - a ruby quartz and gold blossom that opens up doing 10d6 on everything in a 75’ cone.   You cannot control the firing on this primary weapon at all. Attempting to remove eyes, arms, or simucrystal heart matrix will result in weapon activation.  User otherwise immune to own weapons.   Do not have sex.

How did you get away from them?

1. Somehow you managed to overcome their control, you stood up and simple physical aggression was enough to startle them away.  Or so you tell everyone.   You might be full of shit.
2. You don’t know.
3. Get away?  I’m still here man.  How do you think I got here?
4. No one gets away from them. They can track you. Somehow you are tagged like cattle.
5. You are escaping right now.  This way, quickly. Keep your head down. Tell no one you were here.  Be hidden.  They seek you.  Watch the skies.
6. You were taken by people of your kind as part of some kind of deal with the aliens; other people, some of them young children, were offered forth in exchange for you. You …. Are haunted by why.  Then the men made you sleep and you wound up wherever you wound up.   Constantly look over your shoulder for any signs of the Men in Black Coats.  They are not men, they are not men.  Their flesh runs like wax and they bleed smoke and wire.
7. There was a big fight at the alien base and I fled into the room with all those vats of dead babies and human body parts.   
8. You were aboard their craft when a violent flash of light and the reek of ozone knocked you out of the sky; you are the only survivor of the crash (that you know of) - also the authorities local to whatever backwater you landed in are DEFINITELY seeking you out as “an alien in human (or whatever) form”

So while digging around in my files (I was going to share One Thing Out.  Four hours later I've reorged half of my drive.  This is why putting that organization thing off will bite you in the end) and ran across a thing I wrote....sometime.  IT made me laugh and I want to test settings so.....here you go.

The Gm has just has decided "F@!$% this session" tale

01-05 FAREWELL TOUR NEEDS ROADIES

In a flash of cheap trilocation magic, the character is suddenly on tour with a pandimensional intergalactic rock band, on its farewell tour before it dives out toward the big spiral galaxy you’ve got nearby.  It is weird and groovy and Daft Punk and Love and Rockets, and Liverpool, and Tanith Lee, the Tomorrow People, Andre Norton and any 50 issues of Heavy Metal (as long as they are the first 50) all rolled up burned to dust and smoked fine.

Age 1d10+4 years; biological clock reset to starting character age plus 1d4 or new body if this takes the character beyond their natural lifespan.

Character learns a smattering of Spoken/Audio-Gestural PanGal and the basic starways around the Greater Magellanic Cloud and in particular it’s largely telepathic and aquatic Galactic Federation.  

Work Visa - esperlingua impaired Galactic Federation / Zone exchange (10 local years remain)

1or more (roll a d4 and add one) programmed amoeba

• Translator film (ear-audial nerve)
• Scribescum (floating ink-like fungal ‘crobe, translates 500 written languages)
• Gutwash

And finally the gravimetric key to a space yacht in definite port in a space station orbiting a Mass recharge station on the far side of 1987A.

15-20 YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN HITCHHIKER

Maybe an old teleport spell misfired and it’s Just Now Going Off.  Or the party’s nemesis threw a delayed curse at them. Or radiation from the crashed starfreighter they looted is interfering with their metaphysical powers. Whatever.  The character/party is abruptly elsewhere - in the hold of a passing space freighter.

(System shock or blow oats after moment of total disorientation;  Thief-acrobats, monks, Illusionist, Assassins, some rangers, Horizon Walkers, Gatecrashers, etc. may save to avoid  Teleporters, and most Clairvoyants immune;  most experienced space travellers immune)

However, a crime has been committed aboard just prior and the strategy computers compute that YOUR character has the best chance of resolving the situation.   (Ref: pick the paladin or other character with obvious moral compass and axe to grind. Need not be good)

Depending on nature of ship and crew this could mean the other characters are fitted with explosive bolts or could be considered as part of the “needed computation.”   

76-80 SCREW ALL OF YOU WE’RE PLAYING GANGBUSTERS

All chaotic characters are now the mob.  All Lawful characters are g-men; all Neutrals are journalists, or cops, or bystanders.   Start with the basic game and go.  Bonus points to the Referee if the Irish mob call the characters Chlurichans.

Ref’s option as to whether PCs retain their magic/sf gear and powers while they are here and if escape is possible (or desirable!)

86-90 BLACK SITE BLACK SITE!!!!

The Imperial Navy has received authorization to sterilize the site and the containing 28.4 mi hex surrounding down to a micrometer.   Antimatter is probably involved at some point.  

To hell with this Tom Cruise shit, unless you can save v. Gamma Rays don’t even ask about survivability

23% of being flung to some far plane, planet, time, place, dimension, or game system, perhaps indefinitely.   No save unless you’d rather be dead.

(Referee:  play Khyber Pass by Ministry REALLY LOUD and theatrically tear up your notes if you are so inclined.  Just for this hex though. )    

96-00 THE REFEREE HAS FINALLY HAD IT

Demons pour from torn holes in reality.  The uncoiled uncoil and tear their way from underneath and rage across your world’s landscape.  The Gods smite all who oppose them. IF there be no true Gods, then Unimaginable Space Horrors do it instead

(Really, difference?)  

The moon(s) go dark or red or both.   The sun's) shine at night or when they aren’t supposed to.  Dogs and cats...you know.

IN a rain of burning raging fire, all life is extinguished.  But next week the Ref would like you to consider a game called Top Secret…...

So. Much. To. Do.

So I seem to have jumped with both feet back into game design, albeit on a limited basis (not so interested in reinventing the wheel for it’s own sake this time).  The setting I’ve been working on for the last year has decided it needs to be it’s own thing.  So for the last month I’ve been revising, writing, and adding to my setting bible and now I have:

A revised system-less setting book I’m working on (closest to completion but moving the slowest as it’s all revision and editing).  A sort of stylized Space opera far future SF kitchen sink.  So far expressing itself (systemically) in the below.

Noir Basic

A (very) basic, OSR derived, somewhat introductory game set on a particular place in universe (for tighter focus of both game and system elements)...focusing on high tech urban low life, and very noir/pulp/crime inspired;  the intro adventure is a citycrawl in the bottom levels of an ancient arcology that has been opened for Urban Renewal basically.   Trying to shit an intuitive but simple investigation system that fits OSR style play and isn’t just GM fiat is somewhat more difficult than expected.  Aside from that, trying to distill things down into their most simplistic, easiest to grasp forms without relying upon any one else's design space is proving a rewarding challenge.

Galaxy Black RPG

And (finally) a big ass sprawling kitchen sink of a thing that is the very definition of a big ugly baby right now but once I’m done I think will be one of the best things I’ve ever written.  It started as a variation on the above (OSR derived) but there’s a pretty good chance it won’t be backwards compatible, though until play testing starts in earnest there’s no way to know which option I’ll take.   At the moment this is the project packed to the fullest with bizarre, and strange ideas. Wondrous, strange, and bizarre ideas jammed together in ways that, so far, only I can appreciate. But I'm chipping away at it daily.  

What will become of this I don't know. At the least, much of it can be cycled back into Noir if I opt to just push the one (at least at first). All very theoretical, I expect the writing on this and the above will continue for at least a month, maybe until the end of May (hoping not too much longer).

Plus, you know, other writing, other work stuff (though precious little of that this past winter) and day to day.  So...creative and busy and all that rot.    Good times.   It feels good to be writing again.