entomophobiac
Low Prep High Play
Någon gång emellanåt får jag en hel del fritid att avliva. Ofta spenderar jag den tiden med att spela TV-spel, glo på film eller skriva saker, ganska lika fördelat i tid mellan de tre. Annars hänges mitt liv åt träning, arbete och uteliv. Men sak samma - just nu handlar det främst om att skriva.
För när man oftast bara har kort tid på sig att skapa något så blir det antingen väldigt intensivt - och med dålig kvalitet - eller endast kortare idéer som knappt är mer än förslag än något som någonsin kommer kunna bli färdiga spel.
Men det finns undantag, och här tänkte jag egentligen bara gå igenom två av dem för att mina medrollspelare - ni - ska kunna kommentera dem precis så mycket eller lite som ni önskar. Helst mycket, såklart... och alla sorters kommentarer är välkomna.
Förresten så är dessa bara projekt som inte är så stora/seriösa. De seriösare och mer långtgående alstren utelämnas.
Angeltears
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me, thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Father Conrad knew the 23rd psalm inside and out. He had recited it a million times by now, sitting crawled up like a foetus in the corner of his once glorious Harescombe Church, desperately clasping his ears to leave out the outside ruckus.
He had moved to Gloucestershire from London, imagining how life would be like without the theology studies or the regular visits in the cathedral. That was twenty years ago.
But now he knew; all the words of text he had read in old books; all the secret Opus Dei meetings in which he had participated; all the prayers – the thousands of prayers – had been in vain. For, the beast had come. The beast was here. And he was hungry for the flesh of the faithful.
“Father!” It was sister Senead’s sincere and naïve voice. She had tried to gather the others, too, but Conrad had refused. “Leave me alone!” He yelled.
“But, father, you mean so much to so many. You must come with me! What would happen to Julie and the kids? Please?”
The kids. Spawn of Satan, they were. Timmy had spat at his father at the age of 18 and moved out with some pregnant country girl, cursing both him and Julie, telling his own parents that he hated them. And Sarah, the younger daughter, was a bastard dyslexic. An impossibly stupid child revoked of anything even remotely related to intelligence. Would she be his last hope as a father? Hardly…
And in perspective, it all made sense. If the world was about to end, then why place any of the trump cards in the hands of people with faith? God was a sadist. A son-of-a-bitch that was most definitely laughing his sick ass off at the sight of Father Conrad at this very moment.
“Father, please. I mean it. You must come with me. This is the last chance before we leave.” Sister Senead was definitely trying her best. Foul seductress and gossiping witch.
“No, I will not come with you, sister,” Conrad yelled at the top of his lungs, literally flying up from prone, staring at sister Senead menacingly.
“…because God has left us, sister. God has left us for dead. Left us to fend for ourselves – to do what we can before we perish. Conrad took a deep breath and slowly paced toward the sister.
“To me, he is nothing. Not anymore. And do you know what happens when you lose everything you believe in? Do you know that, sister? When you have seen your wife in bed with another man? When you have seen the birth of your children, either as spiteful bastards or as rambling fools, incapable of even a single rational thought? Huh? Do you know how I feel, sister?”
“But, father…”
Conrad reached for a candelabrum, handily placed on a pedestal beside him. It was one of the heavy gold-laden variety, which he started to wield threateningly in front of him as he quickened his pace in the stunned sister’s direction.
“You see, Senead, God has deserted me. And Satan has won. There is no purpose in trying to fight for a lost ideal. I chose to give in. I chose to surrender. And if I can cause as much pain as I have been through myself, at least to someone, it will make me feel far better when our world becomes Hell.”
He struck the sister in the head with the candelabrum, swinging it high above his head. He repeated the procedure over and over, until there was blood everywhere on his clerical robe, on the stone floor and on Senead’s lifeless body.
And in the corner of Conrad’s right eye, you could see a faint gleam mirroring the fires of Hell, and the only sound was the quiet sobbing of the “idiot” child, rabidly grasping for her mother’s hand in the church’s open doors.
“Hail Satan,” Conrad whispered. “Hail Satan.”
Angeltears = Spel skrivet i fyra kapitel - ett för varje apokalypsryttare. Efter detta mönster beskrivs egentligen fyra olika världar i olika stadie av kollaps, där rollpersonerna först är normala människor som kämpar mot kulter, sedan kämpar i världsspännande konflikter, sedan tvingas kämpa för överlevnad och slutligen måste utnyttja mörkrets krafter för att kämpa mot desamma.
Icon
For most people, the concept of theft is a perpetration. To have your belongings stolen cannot be anything less than a violation of your person, especially if the theft is performed in conjunction with brutal violence aimed at yours truly. But in reality, it is not quite that simple.
Theft, assassination, larceny, burglary and everything else can be a perfect way to seek answers and produce results imperative to the common good. Would you perceive the sacrifice of a single person for the common good of thousands to be murder, for example, or would it be a necessity? An acceptable loss? Likewise, if an act of piracy was aimed at someone whose revenues were so great that the theft was hardly noticed, would it still be a terrible crime? Or would it be an act of charity, if the money would then be used to the right ends?
Before you learn of the Manus Obscurum, you must ponder these questions. For the activities of the Manus includes all of the above and a handful more. They are organized crime beyond mobsters and thieves’ guilds. They are thieves, tricksters, murderers, charlatans, liars and deceivers. But what they do, they do for the sake of humanity and the future of our mortal souls.
Icon = Thief: The Role Playing Game (dataspelet Thief). Man spelar tjuvar, lönnmördare och andra skumma typer som blir upplockade av en hemlig organisation (Manus Obscurum) som försöker vara mänsklighetens försvarare och utröna ett antal svar på underliga frågor mitt i ruinerna från ett fallet imperium.
Och jo, fråga gärna om ni undrar något.
För när man oftast bara har kort tid på sig att skapa något så blir det antingen väldigt intensivt - och med dålig kvalitet - eller endast kortare idéer som knappt är mer än förslag än något som någonsin kommer kunna bli färdiga spel.
Men det finns undantag, och här tänkte jag egentligen bara gå igenom två av dem för att mina medrollspelare - ni - ska kunna kommentera dem precis så mycket eller lite som ni önskar. Helst mycket, såklart... och alla sorters kommentarer är välkomna.
Förresten så är dessa bara projekt som inte är så stora/seriösa. De seriösare och mer långtgående alstren utelämnas.
Angeltears
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me, thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Father Conrad knew the 23rd psalm inside and out. He had recited it a million times by now, sitting crawled up like a foetus in the corner of his once glorious Harescombe Church, desperately clasping his ears to leave out the outside ruckus.
He had moved to Gloucestershire from London, imagining how life would be like without the theology studies or the regular visits in the cathedral. That was twenty years ago.
But now he knew; all the words of text he had read in old books; all the secret Opus Dei meetings in which he had participated; all the prayers – the thousands of prayers – had been in vain. For, the beast had come. The beast was here. And he was hungry for the flesh of the faithful.
“Father!” It was sister Senead’s sincere and naïve voice. She had tried to gather the others, too, but Conrad had refused. “Leave me alone!” He yelled.
“But, father, you mean so much to so many. You must come with me! What would happen to Julie and the kids? Please?”
The kids. Spawn of Satan, they were. Timmy had spat at his father at the age of 18 and moved out with some pregnant country girl, cursing both him and Julie, telling his own parents that he hated them. And Sarah, the younger daughter, was a bastard dyslexic. An impossibly stupid child revoked of anything even remotely related to intelligence. Would she be his last hope as a father? Hardly…
And in perspective, it all made sense. If the world was about to end, then why place any of the trump cards in the hands of people with faith? God was a sadist. A son-of-a-bitch that was most definitely laughing his sick ass off at the sight of Father Conrad at this very moment.
“Father, please. I mean it. You must come with me. This is the last chance before we leave.” Sister Senead was definitely trying her best. Foul seductress and gossiping witch.
“No, I will not come with you, sister,” Conrad yelled at the top of his lungs, literally flying up from prone, staring at sister Senead menacingly.
“…because God has left us, sister. God has left us for dead. Left us to fend for ourselves – to do what we can before we perish. Conrad took a deep breath and slowly paced toward the sister.
“To me, he is nothing. Not anymore. And do you know what happens when you lose everything you believe in? Do you know that, sister? When you have seen your wife in bed with another man? When you have seen the birth of your children, either as spiteful bastards or as rambling fools, incapable of even a single rational thought? Huh? Do you know how I feel, sister?”
“But, father…”
Conrad reached for a candelabrum, handily placed on a pedestal beside him. It was one of the heavy gold-laden variety, which he started to wield threateningly in front of him as he quickened his pace in the stunned sister’s direction.
“You see, Senead, God has deserted me. And Satan has won. There is no purpose in trying to fight for a lost ideal. I chose to give in. I chose to surrender. And if I can cause as much pain as I have been through myself, at least to someone, it will make me feel far better when our world becomes Hell.”
He struck the sister in the head with the candelabrum, swinging it high above his head. He repeated the procedure over and over, until there was blood everywhere on his clerical robe, on the stone floor and on Senead’s lifeless body.
And in the corner of Conrad’s right eye, you could see a faint gleam mirroring the fires of Hell, and the only sound was the quiet sobbing of the “idiot” child, rabidly grasping for her mother’s hand in the church’s open doors.
“Hail Satan,” Conrad whispered. “Hail Satan.”
Angeltears = Spel skrivet i fyra kapitel - ett för varje apokalypsryttare. Efter detta mönster beskrivs egentligen fyra olika världar i olika stadie av kollaps, där rollpersonerna först är normala människor som kämpar mot kulter, sedan kämpar i världsspännande konflikter, sedan tvingas kämpa för överlevnad och slutligen måste utnyttja mörkrets krafter för att kämpa mot desamma.
Icon
For most people, the concept of theft is a perpetration. To have your belongings stolen cannot be anything less than a violation of your person, especially if the theft is performed in conjunction with brutal violence aimed at yours truly. But in reality, it is not quite that simple.
Theft, assassination, larceny, burglary and everything else can be a perfect way to seek answers and produce results imperative to the common good. Would you perceive the sacrifice of a single person for the common good of thousands to be murder, for example, or would it be a necessity? An acceptable loss? Likewise, if an act of piracy was aimed at someone whose revenues were so great that the theft was hardly noticed, would it still be a terrible crime? Or would it be an act of charity, if the money would then be used to the right ends?
Before you learn of the Manus Obscurum, you must ponder these questions. For the activities of the Manus includes all of the above and a handful more. They are organized crime beyond mobsters and thieves’ guilds. They are thieves, tricksters, murderers, charlatans, liars and deceivers. But what they do, they do for the sake of humanity and the future of our mortal souls.
Icon = Thief: The Role Playing Game (dataspelet Thief). Man spelar tjuvar, lönnmördare och andra skumma typer som blir upplockade av en hemlig organisation (Manus Obscurum) som försöker vara mänsklighetens försvarare och utröna ett antal svar på underliga frågor mitt i ruinerna från ett fallet imperium.
Och jo, fråga gärna om ni undrar något.
