An announcement to all loyal citizens of the New Cascadian Empire. By the grace of His Recrudescent Majesty EMPEROR JEAN II, the THIRTEENTH OCTOBER, YEAR ELEVEN will mark the beginning of A JOURNEY TO THE STARS
Four brave servants of the Empire will journey beyond its outermost bounds with the goal of EXPANDING and EMPOWERING its influence, and gathering important information about what lurks BEYOND. For the first time, we will break the barriers of HEAVEN and explore DISTANT STARS.
GLORY TO OUR HOME IN HEAVEN GLORY TO CASCADIA
For the past week, posters like these have hung all around New Shafier, capital city of the New Cascadian Empire. Tacked onto every wall of this corpse-city, regardless of whether it be wood, stone, bone, or soft flesh. They are as inescapable as New Shafier itself, where the smoke of the dream-mines and refineries hides the stars of Heaven from its millions of citizens. For most, they are a distraction, potentially a promise of a day off from back-breaking work to see the expedition off. For you, they are a countdown. Every day you read that date is another day gone, eating up your precious stash of hours to spend with your loved ones before you step on that sky-boat and cast off into the winds of Heaven. Because you are one of those four 'brave servants,' and tomorrow you'll meet with His Recrudescent Majesty himself before you go where no one has ventured before.
Each one of you has a reason that you've been chosen for this expedition. Each of you has some sort of specialty that has singled you out of thousands of applicants, caused you to be directly selected by Emperor Jean Terros II. Whether unwilling or unwilling, it doesn't matter. His Recrudescent Majesty has chosen you, and thus you must go. Beyond the dead gods. Beyond the Sigil cloud. Beyond the Heathen's Heavens, to the stars beyond.
Greetings and salutations, ladies, gentlemen, boys, girls, neithers, boths, and in-betweens! I've been wanting to try my hand at a campaign set in a space-like setting for some time, as well as an absolutely dreadful, horror-filled misery-fest, so I thought that I'd slap the two together. Thus, just a couple of hours ago, the Heathen's Heavens were born. This will be a spelljammer-esque campaign, but with heavy horror elements! I'm talking eldritch, cosmic, body, you name it! I'm a horror writer in my off-time, so this'll be a fun opportunity to practice a bit :P My inspirations lie largely in weird fiction like many of the works of Neil Gaiman and China Miéville. I also take heavy inspiration from the various creations of Failbetter Games, and this world itself is pretty heavily inspired by the game Sunless Skies. Still, it's pretty much all unique, just with the same feeling.
If you're interested in hearing more about the world, look no further than the spoiler below. I highly recommend reading it, because I'll be prioritizing applications that tie themselves to the lore of the world, even if just in a small way. If you have any questions not answered here, feel free to ask them!
Twenty-two years ago, the gods went silent. No one knew why then. I suppose we don't really know why now, either. We have an idea of how, but the rest eludes us. Years passed, with no answers. Old institutions, those who relied on divine power to thrive, began to crumble. The world was changing, first slowly, then faster and faster. One nation, known as Cascadia, the very same name now granted to our glorious empire, sought to hold on to its power. They imagined that in order to understand why the gods had left, they would have to travel to Heaven itself and contact them. Then, maybe, they could even bring them back! The fools.
The Cascadians sponsored an expedition into Heaven, creating the precursor to our own H-boats. A ship that could swim through the sky like water. The expedition was publicised, and was meant to restore the people's faith in the gods. Led by the fearless then-Captain Jean Terros, they rose into the sky... and saw to their horror that their worst fears were more than confirmed. In Heaven, the bodies of the gods lay strewn about like children's playthings, torn to ragged shreds, their viscera sprayed across the stars. They recognized the very faces that were on their holy symbols, their skulls crushed to pieces, their jaws torn off, their dead eyes bulging. There wasn't a living one among them. Indeed, even these days, we've yet to discover a single living god. All we've found are their angels, driven feral by grief. Dirty pests.
Needless to say, this was not received well. The world fell to chaos almost immediately. The idea that the gods themselves could be butchered so mercilessly, almost without a care, was... horrifying, to say the least. The implications were very unsettling, even if we have no clue what even caused the deaths of the gods. Cascadia was faced with its imminent fall, as governments across the world began to crumble, or at the very least shift dramatically. The terrible divine power held above the heads of the commoners for so long was no longer all that terrible. However... the thinking of one man saved the name of Cascadia from destruction, even if the antiquated government would be reborn into what it is today. Jean Terros planted the flag of Cascadia between a god's eyes, and claimed the Heavens for all mortality.
The time of the gods, he said, was over. It was time for a new age. It was time for us to throw off the bonds of our world and venture out into the unknown. Time to colonise the sky itself. The resultant civil war was brutal, but bloody. I won't bore you with the details. The crumbling empire of Old Cascadia eventually fell, and New Cascadia rose from its ashes, with Terros at its head. Near the very end, however, an Old Cascadian Loyalist shot and killed Terros. For a moment, it seemed as if he was truly gone, and his vision may have faded with him, if it weren't for the efforts of his closest friend and later prince consort, Aron Targe. A former cleric, his powers lost when the gods left, Aron was the first person ever to use dreams to reclaim the powers of the gods. He used the powers of the god upon which New Shafier was to form in order to revive Terros into the man we know today, His Recrudescent Majesty Emperor Jean II.
Since then, New Cascadia has spread through Heaven at dizzying speeds. In just eleven years, colonies have been founded across Heaven, aided by the reclaimed powers of the gods. These powers come in the form of dreams, physical divine power mined from the bodies of the gods, particular their skulls. None, however, have crossed beyond the Sigil cloud. It is a vast barrier similar to an asteroid field, formed from bizarre ruins and roamed by living, murderous language.
Some things to consider when making characters:
- You will be starting at 3rd level. Despite this seeming low level, you are still very powerful relative to most others in the empire. At least relative to those that they can afford to throw into space. - In addition to starting equipment, take 1000 gold and one magical item of rare or lower tier. You may use your gold to buy items from this list, but not anything above uncommon rarity. - Stats are determined by 4d6, drop lowest, no rerolls. Even if you get a bad spread, I encourage you to make the best of it. Part of the fun of horror is not necessarily feeling strong all of the time! After characters are selected, I will likely do a little rebalancing to make sure all characters are on the same general level, though if players are fine with things as they are I won't meddle. - Homebrew is acceptable, so long as it is balanced and it fits within the theme of the world. PM me any homebrew you'd like to propose.
For your application, please fill in the below template:
Your Time Zone: I didn't have anything to put here but it felt weird to leave it blank. Your RPG Experience: I'm looking for players with at least some experience, but as long as you're a good roleplayer and writer then I'd be happy to have you on board! A Fun Fact About You: Make it fun. If it's not fun, I'll cry. Then you'll feel bad.
Character Name & Pronouns: Society sucks, but it's because of dead gods and monsters, not prejudice. Your character can express themselves however they want, without fear. I mean, there's still fear, but that's just because the Sigil Scribe is eating your bones. Character Species & Class: Contact me about any homebrew! On account of the deaths of the gods, divine casters must be reflavored. Clerics still use divine power, but their power doesn't come from a link with a living god. Instead, they using dreams to cast their magic, similar to the refineries all across Heaven. Paladins can work similarly, or can instead be powered by something within themselves. Or some other proposal you offer! Backstory: Feel free to be as short or as long as you like, I'll try to read everything! Unless it's an illegible mess. Remember to format! If you'd like to have secrets, feel free to PM me! Something Special: Something unique about your character, that makes them stand beyond an ordinary character of their species and class. Go wild with this, I love giving characters weird abilities, though not without drawbacks, and rarely things that directly aid combat. Character Role: Pick Engineer, Pilot, Captain, or Gunner. Which of these four roles does your character fit best? An engineer will likely have some magical ability, while pilots should be fairly dextrous and gunners good with weaponry. Captains don't explicitly need any skills, but should be capable of leadership and thinking fast while not being overbearing. General Physical Description: Can be either text or an image, or both! The aesthetic is roughly victorian, but with both older and more modern aspects as well. It's a bit of a mixed bag.
I think that's all, if I've forgotten something, let me know!
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"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Your Time Zone: GMT+3 Your RPG Experience: A good few years with 5e, both as a player and a DM. Have also dabbled in systems like Fate, City of Mist, and Vampires A Fun Fact About You: I have recently acquired a very cool carpet-like jacket, and I have a cat :)
Character Name & Pronouns: Cromwell Port, he/they Character Species & Class: Orc, Paladin Backstory: From the moment Cromwell learned that the gods have died and that their divine corpses were just... floating about, he experienced a powerful compulsion. A rage, a drive, a fundamental thirst as necessary as needing to breathe. He had to eat the gods. At least taste one. What would they taste like? Does each one taste different? Have they gone bad or has the chill of space preserved them? What do dreams taste like? He simply had to find out, it became his life's goal.
Prior to being recruited, Cromwell spent their time as one of the guards of the city. In fact, he climbed the career ladder fairly quickly. In his spare time he pursued being a chef. He had to learn how to properly cook everything there was to properly cook, so that he can then cook things that are not meant to be properly cooked. Like god meat. He even has a little notebook now, where he writes down hypothetical dishes. Cromwell, of course, will first try the gods raw.
Other than the vast dream of cooking and eating the gods, Cromwell doesn't have any real ambition. Yet. There is no telling what witnessing the space and dead divinity will do to a person, much less tasting it.
Something Special: I suppose endless gluttony? Or perhaps the ability to eat almost anything. Does the food have an effect on them? I dunno, but I imagine it would at least feel weird.
Character Role: I suppose naturally they would fit into being the Captain. Paladin, charisma, the usual.
General Physical Description: Cromwell is pretty big. They are tall, broad, and fat. Under the fat, Cromwell has built up some muscle from the years of training as a guard. Although, Cromwell himself will tell anyone that working in the kitchen is responsible for the lion's share of his physique. His skin is a dark grey, there are a few burns and cuts along his forearms, and a slightly bigger burn on his cheek. It was his first time deep frying. The most horrifying event of his life, the space seems utterly harmless after that. His hair is kept in a ponytail for convenience, it is dyed stark white. In the rare case of attending fancy events and not cooking for the guests or guarding them, Cromwell dresses in a dark maroon and gold suit. It is the only thing left to him from his grandfather, who also served as a guard but eventually moved to become a bureaucrat after taking an arrow (a bullet?) to the knee. Or was it both knees?
Otherwise, Cromwell rocks his armour and his handy blade. The one used to murder, not to cook. Those ones are carried in a handmade wooden box with all of his cooking tools, tucked away safely in his travel bag. They usually wear a robe over the armour, it makes them feel warmer and comfier. And more fashionable.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
What are the horrors in heaven is an immediately fascinating hook. I'm here for it, if you'll have me.
Your Time Zone: GMT +0 time zone Your RPG Experience: RPG wise, I'm a little new, but DND has been my hyperfocus since I started watching Critical Role, and I've read about four of the core sourcebooks now and a lot of *******. I'm in three pbp games, two here and one on gitp (order of the stick), however, writing-wise I have a lot more experience, with both some unpublished original fiction, and fanfic that is out there. I wouldn't describe myself as a horror writer, but I have done a Gothic Horror Worm fic, a Victorian world AU with a serial killer of boys (Harry Potter fanfic) and a HP fanfic set in the second world war where essentially a wizard experiences The Heart of Darkness's journey/Apocalypse now. So there's some dark. I once got a prize from a small fanfic forum in their quarterly writing competition (for a non-horror story, alas). I don't want to sound grandiose, but I'm trying to sell you on me despite less RPG experience than most who might apply here for only four spots in what sounds like an amazing setting and story that I want to be a part of.
Writing style, here are some excerpts:
When I woke, my throat was dry, my head hurt and I couldn't see. Not at first. I was in some cold, damp, stony structure, lying on the floor. The eyes began to adjust to see some small details. An impression of a little space and a stone ceiling and some water trickling past me in a stream, one finger wide.
"Why have you come here?" There was a man there. He was dressed in simple black clothes so that I couldn't make out his edges or his size, only the whiteness of his skin and his bald head at those points where he was not covered. He sat over me, my pack was at his feet, and he was hunched, looking at the floor.
He pushed his fingertips over his scalp, roaming. There wasn't stubble to see, but I could hear it, the scrub of his fingers over tiny hairs.
"Are you an assassin?" he asked.
"I am an Usher of the Crown," I said. My voice was croaky and hoarse.
"You are neither." His face remained turned to the ground so that I only saw his shoulders, his scalp, his fingers. His fingers were fat, like uncooked sausages, or perhaps thick caterpillars that had lived their whole life in deep darkness.
Then he looked at me. "You are a pilgrim, questing after a mystery you cannot understand." His eyes were sunken in his skull. "You have been tested," he said, "and now you think 'I am not so weak'."
What was his voice like? Like an actor trained. Hypnotic. Baritone. Rich in quality. Perhaps the greater part of his power was in his voice, he was a man who could be easily listened to.
"Please. Water," I said.
"You are a wizard, yes? You have the rod on your hip. You have the look of it. But where is your wand?"
He had something in his hands. It was a knife. He drew it across the stone of his seat with a scraping.
"You know the killing curse, and you think yourself strong. You have lived in a dead land all your life, and so you think that there is strength in death. Yes?"
"Please. If there is any water..."
He knocked at something metal with the point of his knife. A canteen. He made no move to give it to me, so I made no move to come any closer to him, and his knife.
"Life. Death. That is their concern, away on the continent, and every other part of the world, but not here in mine. This... is only a body. They may ask you to kill me, but you cannot condemn me.
"You cannot condemn me."
From the Heart of Darkness thing. Hopefully the Captain Kurtz comes through clear.
From the Gothic Horror worm fic:
Looking back, if I'd had the experience that I have now, if I'd been colder – just a little closer to goosebumps, or a shiver – I might have picked up on it. Might have turned around. Instead, I climbed up.
The first thing I saw was Mom's old jewelry box. Everything else was pushed away, and it stood alone in the center of the attic.
It was from her wild college days, before Dad and Brockton Bay, back when her major hadn't been English, and she'd spent summers all around the world, on Gram's dime and she'd kept it as a memento. Inside, there was a hundred dollars, in loose twenties and tens, three silver pieces of jewelry, and a figurine. A little woman, proud and tall. On its base, in a heavy typeface, there was a word inscribed. Lustrum.
A ᴘᴇᴇʀʟᴇss ᴊᴀᴅᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ
I jumped up, hit my head on the ceiling, dropping Mom's little statue onto the dusty floorboards. It clattered across the attic and rolled to a stop at the feet of a tall, thin figure, hidden in the darkest corner of the room which folded to pick it up with worm-white fingers, bending in too many places, too many joints. When it spoke its voice made no sound. When it moved, the floorboards beneath its feet didn't creak.
It bowed, and slowly straightened. The darkness in its corner of the roof was deeper than it should be, and the ceiling higher. It shouldn't have been able to stand without stooping.
No matter what I did, I couldn't hold its appearance in my head. It was human shaped, I was sure. Paler than me. It had arms the length of normal arms, and eyes correct in number and location, but my head and heart were in perfect agreement — it had nothing inside it that was vaguely human, less like me than an octopus. Less than a parasite.
A Fun Fact About You: Once, I snuck up on a seabird. In the sea. Just to admire it. It did not take the implicit compliment the way I intended.
Character Name & Pronouns: Cassidy Awlcerse-Crick (or 'Cas the Cas' to those who wish to insult her). She/her.
Character Species & Class: Aasimar, Warlock (Genie Djinni). I would hope to flavor the classic Genie suggestions as something more eldritch where there's recognisable elemental ... err... elements, but it's also something that has obviously been warped and damaged and made chaotic by whatever has happened to the order of heaven, and is a lot closer to a Great Old One than traditionally. A being now quite associated with a passing madness.
Backstory: Cassidy is an Old Cascadian, not in age but in dress and speech and kindnesses. It's not a popular thing, to cleave to a culture vanquished by a civil war. The Daughter of a military captain with a long family history of fighting for divine causes, Cassidy is an Aasimar. She knows this, like anyone might know they had an ancient ancestor who fought in some irrelevant and maybe mildly interesting historical war in a world that belongs to another time. She, like most who live in the New and Godless Cascadia, does not grasp the significance. One day she will. One day soon, the moment she gets up there.
For as long as Cassidy can remember, she's been a tinkerer, a thinkerer, a wanderer and a wonderer. Orphaned at eight, cleaving tightly to the manners and dress of Old Cascadia as a way of remaining close to her family, Cassidy taught herself how to fix things. She taught herself well. Fixing things is a useful thing for a child to know, and a useful child can sometimes be warm, can sometimes be rewarded, can sometimes be taught how to fix things better. If they're lucky, they might even find a good teacher. Cas has always been lucky. Always been a quick study, been determined. Though it might suprise those few who know Cassidy today to hear it. The Cassidy who, today, travels from house to house, from job to job, is none of these things. If you told her, she would struggle to believe it, would struggle to understand it -- the difference between Cassidy the tinkerer she was, and the Cassidy who received the ring she cannot lose.
Something Special: Cassidy spent years in her own head; spent years looking up at the stars, and the night sky, imagining what the night must have looked like when gods ruled the heavens. Over years, imagining turned into something else. At night, when she strained, she could almost hear the whisper of spirits and stars in the night sky. When she strained, the stars looked different, not white and bright but instead mixtures of colours and sounds, kaleidoscopes that turned and moved through the void above her faster than comets. With time, she no longer had to strain. With more time, she heard them in the day too, in her room too, at work too, if she wanted. Then, when she got the ring...
Cassidy, when she tries, can make out your voice now, can hear you and know you. When she looks at you, and focuses, she can see you as a solid being, not just a mixture of colorful flame, and crackling anima. Most of the time.
Still, you'll always know when she's elsewhere as the freckles across her nose and cheekbones, and the newer scars that track down like lightning bolts from the corner of her eyes begin to slowly move, to subtly shift. Every morning, she looks just so slightly wrong. Altered by the divine blood and magical communion that feeds her... and others.
When the opportunity to go up there came. How could she say no? And, funny thing, whenever she's working to get there, her concentration goes where she wants a lot easier. Seems like someone up there wants her to come up too.
Character Role: Engineer - Magical ability and a tinkerer background.
The image linking tool seems to not be loading this picture in the reply box, so I've linked it above for Cas's appearance.
And now for the Dice Roll. I'll post the completed Character Sheet in a reply to this post, before too long. Ability scores: 17141411108
Questions:
Question: I've not really seen it done, but for a horror story that sounds very much with an emphasis on the collaborative story aspect, do you think it would be a good thing or a bad thing if I were to try and write Cas's IC sections in First person and Past. I think the immediacy of first, and the 'it's too late, any suspense is already played out, you can't change your fate' subtext of past, might help it? Otoh, it might not, and it might be something that doesn't work well with other players, so I leave it up to your preference and experience.
Secondly: Should I buy the spelljammer modules on DND? Does it contain a lot of DNDbeyond features that we'll need for this campaign?
I don't want to edit the post above, as it has the dice rolls in it. I would just append to the backstory that:
Cassidy got her role in the ship in a fashion that doesn't seem quite to add up. She can do the job, sure. But, competing against top candidates from prestigious institutes and high backgrounds, an orphan who holds to Old Cascadian ways of dressing seems to be no choice at all, except ... the King insists. Whenever concerns were raised, or obstacles appeared on the road to her selection, circumstances arranged themselves to see those obstacles removed. Few raise concerns about her selection now. The only question that remains is whether the power that led her to her joining the mission was ultimately political or something entirely more esoteric.
Also, now that I've formalised the character sheets, the voices, the constant loss of concentration, and the strange scars under her eyes that wiggle around all correspond to her at-will detect magic invocation. She'll have it on often. Then mage hand and mending as the engineer should help too.
Your Time Zone: GMT+2 Your RPG Experience: I’ve played about a few months of 5e mostly 3.5e A Fun Fact About You: Just turned 18
Character Name & Pronouns: Violet, he/him Character Species & Class: High elf, sorcerer https://ddb.ac/characters/91214824/b6MJ4N Backstory: A violet shooting star infused with his fathers soul fell onto him the only problem was that he inherited his father’s magic and his father wanted his sons sister to inherit the magic, so his father went on to haunt him. Now he is looking for anyway to stop his father, that brought him to being a lot smarter than most adults and adventuring the stars.
Something Special: He is 14 and scared of light
Character Role: Mostly the mascot
General Physical Description: average height, blond hair, a twinkling violet star in his eyes and a lot of muscle, for a child. He has a strange purple hat (hat of disguise) and glasses with circular lenses.
Your RPG Experience: I've been playing on and off since the end of 3.5 with a break between 4 and 5e. I have mostly played D&D with a bit of Pathfinder 1 and 2e and various other systems such as Warhammer Fanatasy and the Witcher RPG.
A Fun Fact About You: Back in college I entered a contest to create a monster for a D&D setting that was pitched to Wizards of the Coast. It wasn't accepted but my friends and I have used this monster in several of our own campaigns ever since.
Character Species & Class: Dragonborn (Gem) Artificer/Battlesmith (I like the idea that he would be an artficer that is flavored to have their inventions come as flashes from a patron Ala flavored like having a Warlock like connection.)
Backstory: Malizath was once a great paladin in service to the gods of justice and all things good. That was until twenty years ago when his God went silent and his powers faded, leaving him with a crisis of faith and a crushing sense of uselessness. Like many others he spent months and then years in prayer, searching for any sign that his diety had not truly abandoned him.
One day after nearly two decades of searching, Malizath came across a ruin that resembled a temple, seeing a faded image of what he thought was a holy symbol. With little else to go on he began to search the place for something that would renew his hope to continue the search for his God. The things inside the place left an impact of the fallen paladin as he either repressed them or refused to accept them as reality. To this day he could not tell you how long je was in the temple but when he finally emerged Malizath seemed to think he had been contacted by his God and carried what he claimed to be a holy weapon given by his diety. (The weapon is his Steel Defender)
Since then he returned to society, showing off several of his new inventions, claiming them to be from the gods. This in turn gave him the reputation of some crazed Hermit that had come from nowhere, his past glories long since forgotten by not only the people at large but by the seemingly crazed dragonborn himself. With the appearance of the posters, new visions came to Malizath, telling him to make his way to the heavens.
Something Special: Malizath has strange visions that he sees as being flashes of a divine plan from his God. They are usually vague, some giving more detailed images that give him ideas to build new inventions
Character Role: Engineer and if needed possibly a secondary gunner if it ever came to pass.
General Physical Description: Malizath is an Emerald Dragonorn so his scales match that color and has several cracked and broken from combat. Due to his older age they have dulled in color as well. He stands taller then most humans at around 6 and a half feet or so. He tends to dress in the clothes of his old order but due to their over 20 years of being worn, patches and tears are all over the place. His armor is much the same, a dented but well maintained breastplate emblazoned with a faded image of his diety with a hastily painted version of what looks to be some modified version of it covering the back of it. He has several belts that have loops to hold pouches filled with various things from crafting materials to random junk or scrap material.
(I left the details of the strange ruins he visit vague incase you wanted to discuss it as some part of a mystery of who the patron could possibly be. Also with the magical item I picked for Malizath I see it being some strange device he was given a vision of and is not sure what it does himself.)
Your Time Zone: GMT -5 Your RPG Experience: Decades of D&D, Lifetime of characters A Fun Fact About You: my weapon proficiencies include staff, spear, saber, straight-sword, and golf club
Ability scores: 11101591617
Character Name & Pronouns: Cyte ("sight") he/him Character Species & Class: Bugbear Ranger (Horizon Walker) Backstory: When they breached the heavens, Cyte saw his chance to cash in on the greed & fear that gripped the people of Cascadia. 'The gods are dead' they whimpered. Cyte wondered what sort of horror would have the guile, might, or deft to slay the gods. Yet one thing was certain, he would be well paid to do what he does best- kill monsters. "It takes a monster to kill a monster" would be his slogan for employment. Every monster has a weakness, even Cyte. Something Special: Cyte has a fondness for children's toys and an adept sculptor of wooden creatures. His collection includes some of the strange beasts he's encountered in his travels Character Role: Pilot/Gunner General Physical Description: {Coming}
Question: I've not really seen it done, but for a horror story that sounds very much with an emphasis on the collaborative story aspect, do you think it would be a good thing or a bad thing if I were to try and write Cas's IC sections in First person and Past. I think the immediacy of first, and the 'it's too late, any suspense is already played out, you can't change your fate' subtext of past, might help it? Otoh, it might not, and it might be something that doesn't work well with other players, so I leave it up to your preference and experience.
Secondly: Should I buy the spelljammer modules on DND? Does it contain a lot of DNDbeyond features that we'll need for this campaign?
I tend towards third person present, at least in my narration, but we can certainly see what the party wants to do after I've selected everyone.
Also, to hell with spelljammer. I want the spelljammer feel, but the actual spelljammer rules are, in my opinion, kind of worthless. We'll be using a homebrew by Mage Hand Press called Dark Matter for all ship combat and whatnot, and rules regarding non-ship travel through Heaven are going to be... well, interesting. After all, heaven isn't exactly space.
hello, I would like to use homebrew but I'm not sure what can fit with this universe, may we speak about it first? do I present the ideas first in non-dm or should I do it in the DM?
Go ahead and DM me. I think I might make a compilation of accepted homebrew so others can see what I've accepted.
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"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Question: I've not really seen it done, but for a horror story that sounds very much with an emphasis on the collaborative story aspect, do you think it would be a good thing or a bad thing if I were to try and write Cas's IC sections in First person and Past. I think the immediacy of first, and the 'it's too late, any suspense is already played out, you can't change your fate' subtext of past, might help it? Otoh, it might not, and it might be something that doesn't work well with other players, so I leave it up to your preference and experience.
Secondly: Should I buy the spelljammer modules on DND? Does it contain a lot of DNDbeyond features that we'll need for this campaign?
I tend towards third person present, at least in my narration, but we can certainly see what the party wants to do after I've selected everyone.
Also, to hell with spelljammer. I want the spelljammer feel, but the actual spelljammer rules are, in my opinion, kind of worthless. We'll be using a homebrew by Mage Hand Press called Dark Matter for all ship combat and whatnot, and rules regarding non-ship travel through Heaven are going to be... well, interesting. After all, heaven isn't exactly space.
hello, I would like to use homebrew but I'm not sure what can fit with this universe, may we speak about it first? do I present the ideas first in non-dm or should I do it in the DM?
Go ahead and DM me. I think I might make a compilation of accepted homebrew so others can see what I've accepted.
Third person present is absolutely fine for me, and happy to do it. Just wondered if it might play up the horror aspects of it more, but I suppose it's difficult to assess at this point where the right balance is. Very happy to do whatever is wanted.
Thanks for heads up, I'll go and look up the homebrew now. Regardless of whether I'm picked, I'm gonna be reading to see what the circumstances of this magical heaven launch are in their heaven ships, I'm imagining this aethereal / quintessence-filled cloudy air/space travel, and what the god-colonies look like. The part in your brief spoiler about "He used the powers of the god upon which New Shafier was to form in order to revive Terros" is absolutely fascinating. Along with the murderous language of the sigil wall. Hope someone takes comprehend language hat, because that could be very fun.
Your Time Zone: GMT-8 Your RPG Experience: I’ve been playing Play-by-Post off and on for more than 2 years, though only DnD 5e. I’d like to think I’m decently knowledgeable at the game. But of course my experience of roleplaying goes much longer. Was writing stories about my own characters with pen and paper when I was in elementary school. A Fun Fact About You: Actually just finished The Call of Cthulhu yesterday. Lovecraft’s imagination was unparalleled. Naturally I love to read, and have just gotten into the horror genre. Would love to read more this year.
Character Name & Pronouns: Hazel Morgan (She/Her) Character Species & Class: Human/Lunar Sorcerer Backstory: Hazel Morgan was born under the light of a winter blue moon. But she doesn't know that. She barely knows anything about her origins. Her and her brother were left on the doorstep of unsuspecting grandparents - who didn't even know their daughter was even married. But they could never question her because a few days later news reached them that she had died along with her husband. As they understood it, Hazel’s parents were part of a secret fevered organization/cult in Cascadia that were experimenting on bringing back dead Gods’ power and to manifest it through human flesh. Her parents were the unfortunate failed experiments.
Naturally, Hazel’s grandparents kept secret about what happened to her parents. Despite auspicious beginnings, Hazel grew up in a relatively stable home. Her brother was her guiding star and when he wasn't around, she found meaning in asking the moon. Its light drew her to it. And she found herself sacrificing sleep to wander under it. What would the Heaven be like, before it was filled by bodies of dead gods? And what is it like now?
Hazel thought she would never leave the sleepy farm town of Green Orchard until two things happened. Firstly, her brother left to join the military of New Cascadia. And secondly, she started to be able to cast spells.
Hazel desperately wanted to follow her brother and find her own adventure. She had never thought it an option. But now that she thought about it - the moon never stayed the same so why should she? The brutal civil war was behind them and New Cascadia was rebuilding itself. She wanted to be part of the new exploration into Heaven. She wanted to see what the full moon looked like in actual Heaven, to feel her gentle touch, so calming and soft it reminded her of the mother she never had. She wanted to see the world. She wanted to know what love felt like. So she worked in her grandparent's berry fields and offered her spellwork to the townspeople to prepare for her journey.
Now the townspeople were apprehensive about Hazel. They saw a girl who stayed up to the wee hours of the morning, dancing through field and forest, collecting herbs for offerings, and leaving small chalk marks around town for gods-knew-what. But there hadn't been a magic practitioner in town for decades and the small feats she could accomplish were worth her odd price.
Finally, she saved enough to leave for New Shafier. A pale moonstone necklace that her mother used to wear now on her neck. It was cool to the touch and reminded her of the many nights she spent basking in the glow of her moon, when she dreamed of the future. But she doesn’t need to dream anymore. Her strange powers have gotten her selected for the new expedition to Heaven by the Emperor of Cascadia, Jean Terros II. Hazel gladly accepted, turning her sights to the journey ahead. No hardships were on the horizon, only a grand adventure.
Something Special: When Hazel used her spells to help the townspeople, she asks them to pay her with trinkets from faraway places. In her collection, she was proud to have a rock worked smooth by the sea, a statuette of a long-forgotten god, and a jewel that was from an ancient island tomb. Now, who's to say if the stories told by the townsfolk were real but the joy Hazel got from them was. She had no reason to suspect that they were false. They only added value! Who wouldn't want to trade for these items? If she heard them whisper at night, surely they were just trying to tell her stories of where they came from! Character Role: Engineer/Pilot General Physical Description: Hazel is a small, young girl. 5’3 tall, her waist-length brown hair is fluffy and curly and often in a messy bun. Though clumsy at times, she proves herself reliable when the time counts. Her large brown eyes are always full of wonder at the world. She has a sweet smile and wears a pair of gloves over her spell-casting fingers.
Regarding the circumstances of the launch and the powers of the dead gods:
You don't know a ton about the launch itself, other than you're going to be on it. His Recrudescent Majesty began recruitment for it one year prior, and you were selected eleven months ago from a line of thousands of hopefuls. You were promised status and riches, which are two very powerful motivators, as well as the opportunity to see the stars, which is... less motivating for some. After all, if you see the stars, they see you. The ship, you can suspect, is similar to other H-boats created by the Empire. Essentially space submarines, forged from dreams and mortal ingenuity to create the perfect machines for exploring Heaven. That brings us to dreams.
Mined directly from the bodies of the gods, dreams are essentially just a unobtanium-type bullshit macguffin material that is capable of any number of applications whenever the DM feels like it ought to be able to do something. In lore-friendly terms, it's the remnants of gods' creative energy, stored within their dead minds and bones. It can be refined and shaped by skilled industry-priests into any form, so long as it suits the domain of the god it was extracted from. Thus, a war god's dreams could be formed into weaponry and armor, while a nature god's dreams would create living matter.
One thing is certain for everything made of dreams, however: they all have an organic component. Not necessarily a living organic component, but one nonetheless. The weapons formed from dreams bear a striking resemblance to shining steel bone, while the fruits have a distinct meaty taste. Sometimes they scream when you drop them in the pan. Most chefs wear earplugs.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
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For the past week, posters like these have hung all around New Shafier, capital city of the New Cascadian Empire. Tacked onto every wall of this corpse-city, regardless of whether it be wood, stone, bone, or soft flesh. They are as inescapable as New Shafier itself, where the smoke of the dream-mines and refineries hides the stars of Heaven from its millions of citizens. For most, they are a distraction, potentially a promise of a day off from back-breaking work to see the expedition off. For you, they are a countdown. Every day you read that date is another day gone, eating up your precious stash of hours to spend with your loved ones before you step on that sky-boat and cast off into the winds of Heaven. Because you are one of those four 'brave servants,' and tomorrow you'll meet with His Recrudescent Majesty himself before you go where no one has ventured before.
Each one of you has a reason that you've been chosen for this expedition. Each of you has some sort of specialty that has singled you out of thousands of applicants, caused you to be directly selected by Emperor Jean Terros II. Whether unwilling or unwilling, it doesn't matter. His Recrudescent Majesty has chosen you, and thus you must go. Beyond the dead gods. Beyond the Sigil cloud. Beyond the Heathen's Heavens, to the stars beyond.
Greetings and salutations, ladies, gentlemen, boys, girls, neithers, boths, and in-betweens! I've been wanting to try my hand at a campaign set in a space-like setting for some time, as well as an absolutely dreadful, horror-filled misery-fest, so I thought that I'd slap the two together. Thus, just a couple of hours ago, the Heathen's Heavens were born. This will be a spelljammer-esque campaign, but with heavy horror elements! I'm talking eldritch, cosmic, body, you name it! I'm a horror writer in my off-time, so this'll be a fun opportunity to practice a bit :P My inspirations lie largely in weird fiction like many of the works of Neil Gaiman and China Miéville. I also take heavy inspiration from the various creations of Failbetter Games, and this world itself is pretty heavily inspired by the game Sunless Skies. Still, it's pretty much all unique, just with the same feeling.
If you're interested in hearing more about the world, look no further than the spoiler below. I highly recommend reading it, because I'll be prioritizing applications that tie themselves to the lore of the world, even if just in a small way. If you have any questions not answered here, feel free to ask them!
Twenty-two years ago, the gods went silent. No one knew why then. I suppose we don't really know why now, either. We have an idea of how, but the rest eludes us. Years passed, with no answers. Old institutions, those who relied on divine power to thrive, began to crumble. The world was changing, first slowly, then faster and faster. One nation, known as Cascadia, the very same name now granted to our glorious empire, sought to hold on to its power. They imagined that in order to understand why the gods had left, they would have to travel to Heaven itself and contact them. Then, maybe, they could even bring them back! The fools.
The Cascadians sponsored an expedition into Heaven, creating the precursor to our own H-boats. A ship that could swim through the sky like water. The expedition was publicised, and was meant to restore the people's faith in the gods. Led by the fearless then-Captain Jean Terros, they rose into the sky... and saw to their horror that their worst fears were more than confirmed. In Heaven, the bodies of the gods lay strewn about like children's playthings, torn to ragged shreds, their viscera sprayed across the stars. They recognized the very faces that were on their holy symbols, their skulls crushed to pieces, their jaws torn off, their dead eyes bulging. There wasn't a living one among them. Indeed, even these days, we've yet to discover a single living god. All we've found are their angels, driven feral by grief. Dirty pests.
Needless to say, this was not received well. The world fell to chaos almost immediately. The idea that the gods themselves could be butchered so mercilessly, almost without a care, was... horrifying, to say the least. The implications were very unsettling, even if we have no clue what even caused the deaths of the gods. Cascadia was faced with its imminent fall, as governments across the world began to crumble, or at the very least shift dramatically. The terrible divine power held above the heads of the commoners for so long was no longer all that terrible. However... the thinking of one man saved the name of Cascadia from destruction, even if the antiquated government would be reborn into what it is today. Jean Terros planted the flag of Cascadia between a god's eyes, and claimed the Heavens for all mortality.
The time of the gods, he said, was over. It was time for a new age. It was time for us to throw off the bonds of our world and venture out into the unknown. Time to colonise the sky itself. The resultant civil war was brutal, but bloody. I won't bore you with the details. The crumbling empire of Old Cascadia eventually fell, and New Cascadia rose from its ashes, with Terros at its head. Near the very end, however, an Old Cascadian Loyalist shot and killed Terros. For a moment, it seemed as if he was truly gone, and his vision may have faded with him, if it weren't for the efforts of his closest friend and later prince consort, Aron Targe. A former cleric, his powers lost when the gods left, Aron was the first person ever to use dreams to reclaim the powers of the gods. He used the powers of the god upon which New Shafier was to form in order to revive Terros into the man we know today, His Recrudescent Majesty Emperor Jean II.
Since then, New Cascadia has spread through Heaven at dizzying speeds. In just eleven years, colonies have been founded across Heaven, aided by the reclaimed powers of the gods. These powers come in the form of dreams, physical divine power mined from the bodies of the gods, particular their skulls. None, however, have crossed beyond the Sigil cloud. It is a vast barrier similar to an asteroid field, formed from bizarre ruins and roamed by living, murderous language.
Some things to consider when making characters:
- You will be starting at 3rd level. Despite this seeming low level, you are still very powerful relative to most others in the empire. At least relative to those that they can afford to throw into space.
- In addition to starting equipment, take 1000 gold and one magical item of rare or lower tier. You may use your gold to buy items from this list, but not anything above uncommon rarity.
- Stats are determined by 4d6, drop lowest, no rerolls. Even if you get a bad spread, I encourage you to make the best of it. Part of the fun of horror is not necessarily feeling strong all of the time! After characters are selected, I will likely do a little rebalancing to make sure all characters are on the same general level, though if players are fine with things as they are I won't meddle.
- Homebrew is acceptable, so long as it is balanced and it fits within the theme of the world. PM me any homebrew you'd like to propose.
For your application, please fill in the below template:
Your Time Zone: I didn't have anything to put here but it felt weird to leave it blank.
Your RPG Experience: I'm looking for players with at least some experience, but as long as you're a good roleplayer and writer then I'd be happy to have you on board!
A Fun Fact About You: Make it fun. If it's not fun, I'll cry. Then you'll feel bad.
Character Name & Pronouns: Society sucks, but it's because of dead gods and monsters, not prejudice. Your character can express themselves however they want, without fear. I mean, there's still fear, but that's just because the Sigil Scribe is eating your bones.
Character Species & Class: Contact me about any homebrew! On account of the deaths of the gods, divine casters must be reflavored. Clerics still use divine power, but their power doesn't come from a link with a living god. Instead, they using dreams to cast their magic, similar to the refineries all across Heaven. Paladins can work similarly, or can instead be powered by something within themselves. Or some other proposal you offer!
Backstory: Feel free to be as short or as long as you like, I'll try to read everything! Unless it's an illegible mess. Remember to format! If you'd like to have secrets, feel free to PM me!
Something Special: Something unique about your character, that makes them stand beyond an ordinary character of their species and class. Go wild with this, I love giving characters weird abilities, though not without drawbacks, and rarely things that directly aid combat.
Character Role: Pick Engineer, Pilot, Captain, or Gunner. Which of these four roles does your character fit best? An engineer will likely have some magical ability, while pilots should be fairly dextrous and gunners good with weaponry. Captains don't explicitly need any skills, but should be capable of leadership and thinking fast while not being overbearing.
General Physical Description: Can be either text or an image, or both! The aesthetic is roughly victorian, but with both older and more modern aspects as well. It's a bit of a mixed bag.
I think that's all, if I've forgotten something, let me know!
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(Forgot to mention, but I will also have homebrew rules for ships and firearms in the game. Both created by Mage Hand Press)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Your Time Zone: GMT+3
Your RPG Experience: A good few years with 5e, both as a player and a DM. Have also dabbled in systems like Fate, City of Mist, and Vampires
A Fun Fact About You: I have recently acquired a very cool carpet-like jacket, and I have a cat :)
Character Name & Pronouns: Cromwell Port, he/they
Character Species & Class: Orc, Paladin
Backstory: From the moment Cromwell learned that the gods have died and that their divine corpses were just... floating about, he experienced a powerful compulsion. A rage, a drive, a fundamental thirst as necessary as needing to breathe. He had to eat the gods. At least taste one. What would they taste like? Does each one taste different? Have they gone bad or has the chill of space preserved them? What do dreams taste like? He simply had to find out, it became his life's goal.
Prior to being recruited, Cromwell spent their time as one of the guards of the city. In fact, he climbed the career ladder fairly quickly. In his spare time he pursued being a chef. He had to learn how to properly cook everything there was to properly cook, so that he can then cook things that are not meant to be properly cooked. Like god meat. He even has a little notebook now, where he writes down hypothetical dishes. Cromwell, of course, will first try the gods raw.
Other than the vast dream of cooking and eating the gods, Cromwell doesn't have any real ambition. Yet. There is no telling what witnessing the space and dead divinity will do to a person, much less tasting it.
Something Special: I suppose endless gluttony? Or perhaps the ability to eat almost anything. Does the food have an effect on them? I dunno, but I imagine it would at least feel weird.
Character Role: I suppose naturally they would fit into being the Captain. Paladin, charisma, the usual.
General Physical Description: Cromwell is pretty big. They are tall, broad, and fat. Under the fat, Cromwell has built up some muscle from the years of training as a guard. Although, Cromwell himself will tell anyone that working in the kitchen is responsible for the lion's share of his physique. His skin is a dark grey, there are a few burns and cuts along his forearms, and a slightly bigger burn on his cheek. It was his first time deep frying. The most horrifying event of his life, the space seems utterly harmless after that. His hair is kept in a ponytail for convenience, it is dyed stark white. In the rare case of attending fancy events and not cooking for the guests or guarding them, Cromwell dresses in a dark maroon and gold suit. It is the only thing left to him from his grandfather, who also served as a guard but eventually moved to become a bureaucrat after taking an arrow (a bullet?) to the knee. Or was it both knees?
Otherwise, Cromwell rocks his armour and his handy blade. The one used to murder, not to cook. Those ones are carried in a handmade wooden box with all of his cooking tools, tucked away safely in his travel bag. They usually wear a robe over the armour, it makes them feel warmer and comfier. And more fashionable.
What are the horrors in heaven is an immediately fascinating hook. I'm here for it, if you'll have me.
Your Time Zone: GMT +0 time zone
Your RPG Experience: RPG wise, I'm a little new, but DND has been my hyperfocus since I started watching Critical Role, and I've read about four of the core sourcebooks now and a lot of *******. I'm in three pbp games, two here and one on gitp (order of the stick), however, writing-wise I have a lot more experience, with both some unpublished original fiction, and fanfic that is out there. I wouldn't describe myself as a horror writer, but I have done a Gothic Horror Worm fic, a Victorian world AU with a serial killer of boys (Harry Potter fanfic) and a HP fanfic set in the second world war where essentially a wizard experiences The Heart of Darkness's journey/Apocalypse now. So there's some dark. I once got a prize from a small fanfic forum in their quarterly writing competition (for a non-horror story, alas). I don't want to sound grandiose, but I'm trying to sell you on me despite less RPG experience than most who might apply here for only four spots in what sounds like an amazing setting and story that I want to be a part of.
Writing style, here are some excerpts:
When I woke, my throat was dry, my head hurt and I couldn't see. Not at first. I was in some cold, damp, stony structure, lying on the floor. The eyes began to adjust to see some small details. An impression of a little space and a stone ceiling and some water trickling past me in a stream, one finger wide.
"Why have you come here?" There was a man there. He was dressed in simple black clothes so that I couldn't make out his edges or his size, only the whiteness of his skin and his bald head at those points where he was not covered. He sat over me, my pack was at his feet, and he was hunched, looking at the floor.
He pushed his fingertips over his scalp, roaming. There wasn't stubble to see, but I could hear it, the scrub of his fingers over tiny hairs.
"Are you an assassin?" he asked.
"I am an Usher of the Crown," I said. My voice was croaky and hoarse.
"You are neither." His face remained turned to the ground so that I only saw his shoulders, his scalp, his fingers. His fingers were fat, like uncooked sausages, or perhaps thick caterpillars that had lived their whole life in deep darkness.
Then he looked at me. "You are a pilgrim, questing after a mystery you cannot understand." His eyes were sunken in his skull. "You have been tested," he said, "and now you think 'I am not so weak'."
What was his voice like? Like an actor trained. Hypnotic. Baritone. Rich in quality. Perhaps the greater part of his power was in his voice, he was a man who could be easily listened to.
"Please. Water," I said.
"You are a wizard, yes? You have the rod on your hip. You have the look of it. But where is your wand?"
He had something in his hands. It was a knife. He drew it across the stone of his seat with a scraping.
"You know the killing curse, and you think yourself strong. You have lived in a dead land all your life, and so you think that there is strength in death. Yes?"
"Please. If there is any water..."
He knocked at something metal with the point of his knife. A canteen. He made no move to give it to me, so I made no move to come any closer to him, and his knife.
"Life. Death. That is their concern, away on the continent, and every other part of the world, but not here in mine. This... is only a body. They may ask you to kill me, but you cannot condemn me.
"You cannot condemn me."
From the Heart of Darkness thing. Hopefully the Captain Kurtz comes through clear.
From the Gothic Horror worm fic:
Looking back, if I'd had the experience that I have now, if I'd been colder – just a little closer to goosebumps, or a shiver – I might have picked up on it. Might have turned around. Instead, I climbed up.
The first thing I saw was Mom's old jewelry box. Everything else was pushed away, and it stood alone in the center of the attic.
It was from her wild college days, before Dad and Brockton Bay, back when her major hadn't been English, and she'd spent summers all around the world, on Gram's dime and she'd kept it as a memento. Inside, there was a hundred dollars, in loose twenties and tens, three silver pieces of jewelry, and a figurine. A little woman, proud and tall. On its base, in a heavy typeface, there was a word inscribed. Lustrum.
A ᴘᴇᴇʀʟᴇss ᴊᴀᴅᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ
I jumped up, hit my head on the ceiling, dropping Mom's little statue onto the dusty floorboards. It clattered across the attic and rolled to a stop at the feet of a tall, thin figure, hidden in the darkest corner of the room which folded to pick it up with worm-white fingers, bending in too many places, too many joints. When it spoke its voice made no sound. When it moved, the floorboards beneath its feet didn't creak.
Yᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴʜᴇʀɪᴛᴏʀ ᴏғ ᴀ sᴛᴀᴛᴜᴇᴛᴛᴇ ᴏғ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇʟᴇss ᴊᴀᴅᴇ. Iɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴅʀᴇᴀʀʏ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ, sᴏ ᴠᴜʟɢᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀsᴇ, I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴀᴅᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʀᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛs ʀᴇsᴄᴜᴇ.
"Wh-what are you?"
The corpse air of the attic lay still as it approached me.
Cᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Bʀᴏᴋᴇʀ: ᴅɪsᴘᴇɴsᴇʀ — ᴀɴᴅ ᴇʀsᴛᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴏғ ᴍᴀʟᴀᴅies ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ, ᴡʜᴇɴ sᴜᴄʜ ᴅɪsᴛɪɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢғᴜʟ. Cᴀʟᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ. Yᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴇᴀʀ. Dᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴏɴ ᴏ̨ᴜɪᴄᴋ sᴀʟᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴜʀᴄʜᴀsᴇʀ's ʀᴇᴍᴏʀsᴇ, ᴅᴜʟʟ ᴛɪᴍᴇ sʜᴀʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ.
It bowed, and slowly straightened. The darkness in its corner of the roof was deeper than it should be, and the ceiling higher. It shouldn't have been able to stand without stooping.
No matter what I did, I couldn't hold its appearance in my head. It was human shaped, I was sure. Paler than me. It had arms the length of normal arms, and eyes correct in number and location, but my head and heart were in perfect agreement — it had nothing inside it that was vaguely human, less like me than an octopus. Less than a parasite.
A Fun Fact About You: Once, I snuck up on a seabird. In the sea. Just to admire it. It did not take the implicit compliment the way I intended.
Character Name & Pronouns: Cassidy Awlcerse-Crick (or 'Cas the Cas' to those who wish to insult her). She/her.
Character Species & Class: Aasimar, Warlock (Genie Djinni). I would hope to flavor the classic Genie suggestions as something more eldritch where there's recognisable elemental ... err... elements, but it's also something that has obviously been warped and damaged and made chaotic by whatever has happened to the order of heaven, and is a lot closer to a Great Old One than traditionally. A being now quite associated with a passing madness.
Backstory: Cassidy is an Old Cascadian, not in age but in dress and speech and kindnesses. It's not a popular thing, to cleave to a culture vanquished by a civil war. The Daughter of a military captain with a long family history of fighting for divine causes, Cassidy is an Aasimar. She knows this, like anyone might know they had an ancient ancestor who fought in some irrelevant and maybe mildly interesting historical war in a world that belongs to another time. She, like most who live in the New and Godless Cascadia, does not grasp the significance. One day she will. One day soon, the moment she gets up there.
For as long as Cassidy can remember, she's been a tinkerer, a thinkerer, a wanderer and a wonderer. Orphaned at eight, cleaving tightly to the manners and dress of Old Cascadia as a way of remaining close to her family, Cassidy taught herself how to fix things. She taught herself well. Fixing things is a useful thing for a child to know, and a useful child can sometimes be warm, can sometimes be rewarded, can sometimes be taught how to fix things better. If they're lucky, they might even find a good teacher. Cas has always been lucky. Always been a quick study, been determined. Though it might suprise those few who know Cassidy today to hear it. The Cassidy who, today, travels from house to house, from job to job, is none of these things. If you told her, she would struggle to believe it, would struggle to understand it -- the difference between Cassidy the tinkerer she was, and the Cassidy who received the ring she cannot lose.
Something Special: Cassidy spent years in her own head; spent years looking up at the stars, and the night sky, imagining what the night must have looked like when gods ruled the heavens. Over years, imagining turned into something else. At night, when she strained, she could almost hear the whisper of spirits and stars in the night sky. When she strained, the stars looked different, not white and bright but instead mixtures of colours and sounds, kaleidoscopes that turned and moved through the void above her faster than comets. With time, she no longer had to strain. With more time, she heard them in the day too, in her room too, at work too, if she wanted. Then, when she got the ring...
Cassidy, when she tries, can make out your voice now, can hear you and know you. When she looks at you, and focuses, she can see you as a solid being, not just a mixture of colorful flame, and crackling anima. Most of the time.
Still, you'll always know when she's elsewhere as the freckles across her nose and cheekbones, and the newer scars that track down like lightning bolts from the corner of her eyes begin to slowly move, to subtly shift. Every morning, she looks just so slightly wrong. Altered by the divine blood and magical communion that feeds her... and others.
When the opportunity to go up there came. How could she say no? And, funny thing, whenever she's working to get there, her concentration goes where she wants a lot easier. Seems like someone up there wants her to come up too.
Character Role: Engineer - Magical ability and a tinkerer background.
General Physical Description:
The image linking tool seems to not be loading this picture in the reply box, so I've linked it above for Cas's appearance.
And now for the Dice Roll. I'll post the completed Character Sheet in a reply to this post, before too long. Ability scores: 17 14 14 11 10 8
Questions:
Question: I've not really seen it done, but for a horror story that sounds very much with an emphasis on the collaborative story aspect, do you think it would be a good thing or a bad thing if I were to try and write Cas's IC sections in First person and Past. I think the immediacy of first, and the 'it's too late, any suspense is already played out, you can't change your fate' subtext of past, might help it? Otoh, it might not, and it might be something that doesn't work well with other players, so I leave it up to your preference and experience.
Secondly: Should I buy the spelljammer modules on DND? Does it contain a lot of DNDbeyond features that we'll need for this campaign?
I don't want to edit the post above, as it has the dice rolls in it. I would just append to the backstory that:
Cassidy got her role in the ship in a fashion that doesn't seem quite to add up. She can do the job, sure. But, competing against top candidates from prestigious institutes and high backgrounds, an orphan who holds to Old Cascadian ways of dressing seems to be no choice at all, except ... the King insists. Whenever concerns were raised, or obstacles appeared on the road to her selection, circumstances arranged themselves to see those obstacles removed. Few raise concerns about her selection now. The only question that remains is whether the power that led her to her joining the mission was ultimately political or something entirely more esoteric.
Also, now that I've formalised the character sheets, the voices, the constant loss of concentration, and the strange scars under her eyes that wiggle around all correspond to her at-will detect magic invocation. She'll have it on often. Then mage hand and mending as the engineer should help too.
https://ddb.ac/characters/91344338/wq0tLv
Hi! That sounds like a very interesting setting. Is Critical Role's Blood Hunter class accepted? In that case I can finally try that class :)
Player:
Snikkit Sparks - Gnome Artificier (Alchemist) 3 | Stranger Things: Hunt for the Thessalhydra
Theron Pyllae - Variant Human Fighter 1 | Shell Island
Riwakan Thioscale - Dragonborn Fighter (Battle Master) 5 | Adventures in the Sands: Lost Tomb of Meneptah (Group 2)
DM:
Derailed Dreams - Panic on the Zakhara Express
Ability scores: 11 16 15 15 13 12
Noire Havensong | Harengon Archfey Warlock 6/Lore Bard 4 | Westmarch - Guild of the Phoenix (Discord)
Tanatari Crelieu | Kalashtar Druid 2 | Damian_May's Sleeping Gods
Jynx Starrkeep | Changling GOO Warlock 2 | Astien's Tyranny of Dragons
DM | Eberron Eternal (Discord)
New post for the ability roll, so I can update the first one:
Ability scores: 11 13 14 12 7 17
Player:
Snikkit Sparks - Gnome Artificier (Alchemist) 3 | Stranger Things: Hunt for the Thessalhydra
Theron Pyllae - Variant Human Fighter 1 | Shell Island
Riwakan Thioscale - Dragonborn Fighter (Battle Master) 5 | Adventures in the Sands: Lost Tomb of Meneptah (Group 2)
DM:
Derailed Dreams - Panic on the Zakhara Express
Ability scores: 7 15 7 11 15 11
Your Time Zone: GMT+2
Your RPG Experience: I’ve played about a few months of 5e mostly 3.5e
A Fun Fact About You: Just turned 18
Character Name & Pronouns: Violet, he/him
Character Species & Class: High elf, sorcerer https://ddb.ac/characters/91214824/b6MJ4N
Backstory: A violet shooting star infused with his fathers soul fell onto him the only problem was that he inherited his father’s magic and his father wanted his sons sister to inherit the magic, so his father went on to haunt him. Now he is looking for anyway to stop his father, that brought him to being a lot smarter than most adults and adventuring the stars.
Something Special: He is 14 and scared of light
Character Role: Mostly the mascot
General Physical Description: average height, blond hair, a twinkling violet star in his eyes and a lot of muscle, for a child. He has a strange purple hat (hat of disguise) and glasses with circular lenses.
Ability scores: 14 14 10 12 13 7
Ability scores: 8 12 11 11 13 9
Your Time Zone: EST
Your RPG Experience: I've been playing on and off since the end of 3.5 with a break between 4 and 5e. I have mostly played D&D with a bit of Pathfinder 1 and 2e and various other systems such as Warhammer Fanatasy and the Witcher RPG.
A Fun Fact About You: Back in college I entered a contest to create a monster for a D&D setting that was pitched to Wizards of the Coast. It wasn't accepted but my friends and I have used this monster in several of our own campaigns ever since.
Character Name & Pronouns: Malizath the Mad (He/Him)
Character Species & Class: Dragonborn (Gem) Artificer/Battlesmith (I like the idea that he would be an artficer that is flavored to have their inventions come as flashes from a patron Ala flavored like having a Warlock like connection.)
Backstory: Malizath was once a great paladin in service to the gods of justice and all things good. That was until twenty years ago when his God went silent and his powers faded, leaving him with a crisis of faith and a crushing sense of uselessness. Like many others he spent months and then years in prayer, searching for any sign that his diety had not truly abandoned him.
One day after nearly two decades of searching, Malizath came across a ruin that resembled a temple, seeing a faded image of what he thought was a holy symbol. With little else to go on he began to search the place for something that would renew his hope to continue the search for his God. The things inside the place left an impact of the fallen paladin as he either repressed them or refused to accept them as reality. To this day he could not tell you how long je was in the temple but when he finally emerged Malizath seemed to think he had been contacted by his God and carried what he claimed to be a holy weapon given by his diety. (The weapon is his Steel Defender)
Since then he returned to society, showing off several of his new inventions, claiming them to be from the gods. This in turn gave him the reputation of some crazed Hermit that had come from nowhere, his past glories long since forgotten by not only the people at large but by the seemingly crazed dragonborn himself. With the appearance of the posters, new visions came to Malizath, telling him to make his way to the heavens.
Something Special: Malizath has strange visions that he sees as being flashes of a divine plan from his God. They are usually vague, some giving more detailed images that give him ideas to build new inventions
Character Role: Engineer and if needed possibly a secondary gunner if it ever came to pass.
General Physical Description: Malizath is an Emerald Dragonorn so his scales match that color and has several cracked and broken from combat. Due to his older age they have dulled in color as well. He stands taller then most humans at around 6 and a half feet or so. He tends to dress in the clothes of his old order but due to their over 20 years of being worn, patches and tears are all over the place. His armor is much the same, a dented but well maintained breastplate emblazoned with a faded image of his diety with a hastily painted version of what looks to be some modified version of it covering the back of it. He has several belts that have loops to hold pouches filled with various things from crafting materials to random junk or scrap material.
(I left the details of the strange ruins he visit vague incase you wanted to discuss it as some part of a mystery of who the patron could possibly be. Also with the magical item I picked for Malizath I see it being some strange device he was given a vision of and is not sure what it does himself.)
Ability scores: 10 13 18 13 11 15
Your Time Zone: GMT -5
Your RPG Experience: Decades of D&D, Lifetime of characters
A Fun Fact About You: my weapon proficiencies include staff, spear, saber, straight-sword, and golf club
Ability scores: 11 10 15 9 16 17
Character Name & Pronouns: Cyte ("sight") he/him
Character Species & Class: Bugbear Ranger (Horizon Walker)
Backstory: When they breached the heavens, Cyte saw his chance to cash in on the greed & fear that gripped the people of Cascadia. 'The gods are dead' they whimpered. Cyte wondered what sort of horror would have the guile, might, or deft to slay the gods. Yet one thing was certain, he would be well paid to do what he does best- kill monsters. "It takes a monster to kill a monster" would be his slogan for employment. Every monster has a weakness, even Cyte.
Something Special: Cyte has a fondness for children's toys and an adept sculptor of wooden creatures. His collection includes some of the strange beasts he's encountered in his travels
Character Role: Pilot/Gunner
General Physical Description: {Coming}
Fargen Hill Dwarf Cleric/Barbarian - Hoard of the Dragon Queen, Jodie Olwen Half-Elf Bard- Chronicles of the Accursed
I tend towards third person present, at least in my narration, but we can certainly see what the party wants to do after I've selected everyone.
Also, to hell with spelljammer. I want the spelljammer feel, but the actual spelljammer rules are, in my opinion, kind of worthless. We'll be using a homebrew by Mage Hand Press called Dark Matter for all ship combat and whatnot, and rules regarding non-ship travel through Heaven are going to be... well, interesting. After all, heaven isn't exactly space.
Indeed it is!
Go ahead and DM me. I think I might make a compilation of accepted homebrew so others can see what I've accepted.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Third person present is absolutely fine for me, and happy to do it. Just wondered if it might play up the horror aspects of it more, but I suppose it's difficult to assess at this point where the right balance is. Very happy to do whatever is wanted.
Thanks for heads up, I'll go and look up the homebrew now. Regardless of whether I'm picked, I'm gonna be reading to see what the circumstances of this magical heaven launch are in their heaven ships, I'm imagining this aethereal / quintessence-filled cloudy air/space travel, and what the god-colonies look like. The part in your brief spoiler about "He used the powers of the god upon which New Shafier was to form in order to revive Terros" is absolutely fascinating. Along with the murderous language of the sigil wall. Hope someone takes comprehend language hat, because that could be very fun.
Your Time Zone: GMT-8
Your RPG Experience: I’ve been playing Play-by-Post off and on for more than 2 years, though only DnD 5e. I’d like to think I’m decently knowledgeable at the game. But of course my experience of roleplaying goes much longer. Was writing stories about my own characters with pen and paper when I was in elementary school.
A Fun Fact About You: Actually just finished The Call of Cthulhu yesterday. Lovecraft’s imagination was unparalleled. Naturally I love to read, and have just gotten into the horror genre. Would love to read more this year.
Character Name & Pronouns: Hazel Morgan (She/Her)
Character Species & Class: Human/Lunar Sorcerer
Backstory: Hazel Morgan was born under the light of a winter blue moon. But she doesn't know that. She barely knows anything about her origins. Her and her brother were left on the doorstep of unsuspecting grandparents - who didn't even know their daughter was even married. But they could never question her because a few days later news reached them that she had died along with her husband. As they understood it, Hazel’s parents were part of a secret fevered organization/cult in Cascadia that were experimenting on bringing back dead Gods’ power and to manifest it through human flesh. Her parents were the unfortunate failed experiments.
Naturally, Hazel’s grandparents kept secret about what happened to her parents. Despite auspicious beginnings, Hazel grew up in a relatively stable home. Her brother was her guiding star and when he wasn't around, she found meaning in asking the moon. Its light drew her to it. And she found herself sacrificing sleep to wander under it. What would the Heaven be like, before it was filled by bodies of dead gods? And what is it like now?
Hazel thought she would never leave the sleepy farm town of Green Orchard until two things happened. Firstly, her brother left to join the military of New Cascadia. And secondly, she started to be able to cast spells.
Hazel desperately wanted to follow her brother and find her own adventure. She had never thought it an option. But now that she thought about it - the moon never stayed the same so why should she? The brutal civil war was behind them and New Cascadia was rebuilding itself. She wanted to be part of the new exploration into Heaven. She wanted to see what the full moon looked like in actual Heaven, to feel her gentle touch, so calming and soft it reminded her of the mother she never had. She wanted to see the world. She wanted to know what love felt like. So she worked in her grandparent's berry fields and offered her spellwork to the townspeople to prepare for her journey.
Now the townspeople were apprehensive about Hazel. They saw a girl who stayed up to the wee hours of the morning, dancing through field and forest, collecting herbs for offerings, and leaving small chalk marks around town for gods-knew-what. But there hadn't been a magic practitioner in town for decades and the small feats she could accomplish were worth her odd price.
Finally, she saved enough to leave for New Shafier. A pale moonstone necklace that her mother used to wear now on her neck. It was cool to the touch and reminded her of the many nights she spent basking in the glow of her moon, when she dreamed of the future. But she doesn’t need to dream anymore. Her strange powers have gotten her selected for the new expedition to Heaven by the Emperor of Cascadia, Jean Terros II. Hazel gladly accepted, turning her sights to the journey ahead. No hardships were on the horizon, only a grand adventure.
Something Special: When Hazel used her spells to help the townspeople, she asks them to pay her with trinkets from faraway places. In her collection, she was proud to have a rock worked smooth by the sea, a statuette of a long-forgotten god, and a jewel that was from an ancient island tomb. Now, who's to say if the stories told by the townsfolk were real but the joy Hazel got from them was. She had no reason to suspect that they were false. They only added value! Who wouldn't want to trade for these items? If she heard them whisper at night, surely they were just trying to tell her stories of where they came from!
Character Role: Engineer/Pilot
General Physical Description: Hazel is a small, young girl. 5’3 tall, her waist-length brown hair is fluffy and curly and often in a messy bun. Though clumsy at times, she proves herself reliable when the time counts. Her large brown eyes are always full of wonder at the world. She has a sweet smile and wears a pair of gloves over her spell-casting fingers.
Regarding the circumstances of the launch and the powers of the dead gods:
You don't know a ton about the launch itself, other than you're going to be on it. His Recrudescent Majesty began recruitment for it one year prior, and you were selected eleven months ago from a line of thousands of hopefuls. You were promised status and riches, which are two very powerful motivators, as well as the opportunity to see the stars, which is... less motivating for some. After all, if you see the stars, they see you. The ship, you can suspect, is similar to other H-boats created by the Empire. Essentially space submarines, forged from dreams and mortal ingenuity to create the perfect machines for exploring Heaven. That brings us to dreams.
Mined directly from the bodies of the gods, dreams are essentially just a unobtanium-type bullshit macguffin material that is capable of any number of applications whenever the DM feels like it ought to be able to do something. In lore-friendly terms, it's the remnants of gods' creative energy, stored within their dead minds and bones. It can be refined and shaped by skilled industry-priests into any form, so long as it suits the domain of the god it was extracted from. Thus, a war god's dreams could be formed into weaponry and armor, while a nature god's dreams would create living matter.
One thing is certain for everything made of dreams, however: they all have an organic component. Not necessarily a living organic component, but one nonetheless. The weapons formed from dreams bear a striking resemblance to shining steel bone, while the fruits have a distinct meaty taste. Sometimes they scream when you drop them in the pan. Most chefs wear earplugs.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."