MP Game - Yarnspinners

R'lyeh - turn 2 (running late...)

...yet He shall rise and His kingdom shall cover the Earth.

You know, that human Lovecraft has a lot to answer for. "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" indeed! The man couldn't come up with a working transliteration scheme to save his life. Not even when we gave him a second chance...

And while his publicity has attracted a larger number of cultists to Our cause, We do wonder about the type of people they are. When one of Our minions is sent to collect a Cultist who has inevitably meddled in Things he shouldn't have, and instead of running in gibbering fear according to tradition, he'll be found sitting at a desk frantically bashing away at a typewriter as his front door is smashed to flinders. When a tentacle grabs his foot and starts dragging him to certain doom, he will be holding onto the desk with one hand so that he can continue to type his account with the other. And as hungry jaws close about his body, the only vocalisation of the pain and horror he feels is to scrabble for the exclamation mark at the end of "arrrrrgh!" We can't help wondering about the effect on our minions when they are mostly eating the brains of terminally stupid people.

Anyway...

...the stars are right and Our time is here, but We find Our house poorly prepared. Atlantean slaves will not alone conquer the world that is Our right, and Our Starspawn cousins have grown weak and slothful as the aeons passed.

We call forth the power of the Spheres to bring down a flaming meteorite from the heavans. The impact is mighty, and many thousands of slaves die bringing back the molten star-stuff to the city. But what of them? In this We have the means to turn poor Atlantean slaves into invincibly armoured soldiers. We are certain to have need of them.

Meanwhile, leaders of the Illithid are called before Our presence. The strongest minds are selected for instruction. From their number we choose the first of those who will lead Our armies into battle and destroy the minds of Our enemies.

Having dreamed of blasphemous couplings between human and Illithid, We then demand an accounting of their actions while We slept. Hesitating and fearful - as is only right - one of them brings forward a small Illithid-child, strangely deformed-looking. Searching its guardian's memory, We find that the creature was indeed the issue of Illithid breeding with Man.

We are prepared to vent our wrath on the strange child and its perverted parent, but, well, its little tentacles are so cute!. Instead we send it out into the world; if it should prove its worth, the strange creature may be allowed to find its place as one of our minions.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 3 ----

Early summer, year 12 of my exile.

At Last, some good news. Three more hoplites came into town Last week, and I suspect more remnants of the broken taxis will continue to straggle in as they emerge from their winter shelters in a (futile) attempt to find civilization. This means that one-third of my foot soldiers are now non-barbarians, so I have decided that we are strong enough to take on a nearby nest of bandits that the villagers have been harping on us for weeks to attack. Reports indicate that there are almost as many bandit as I have troops under my command, but even my locals, I think, are worth more than these petty thugs, at least after the rigorous training I have put them through.

So there will be some honest fighting, a welcome change from the bizarre events of the Last few weeks, and also some money, because the citizens Skelde Henge have agreed to submit to the direction of the village leaders if we will rid them of the bandits. (Or at least so I have been told.) And there will be no one winking at me, or worse, bowing, no Balachandra or his brother Divakar to chant ridiculous rhymes about me and butter and who knows what else.

If I had known, when I left Pagasae for the Great Campaign so long ago, that one day I would be thousands of leagues from home, scratching battle plans in the mud, in breathless anticipation of a brawl with a bunch of ignorant peasants...

I should be back in a few months. I hope that Thymbre will have returned by then, and I may hear how her journey to learn of quaint local superstitions has fared.

---

[deccan]

Just my personal opinion, but I think this competition is being too "bland" if the judge(s) continue to refrain from judging the relative "quality" of the yarn. It's like you get 2 points automatically simply for handing in your homework, but there's no effort to differentiate those trying to be really entertaining and those just filling in something for every turn.

[Zapmeister]

deccan said:
Just my personal opinion, but I think this competition is being too "bland" if the judge(s) continue to refrain from judging the relative "quality" of the yarn. It's like you get 2 points automatically simply for handing in your homework, but there's no effort to differentiate those trying to be really entertaining and those just filling in something for every turn.

Yes, that's down to my laziness, really. I believe the new administrater, Magnate, plans to do a better job.

[magnate]

Zapmeister said:

Yes, that's down to my laziness, really. I believe the new administrater, Magnate, plans to do a better job.

Interesting - I was very careful in my first post, in case people really didn't want me to judge relative quality. I'm quite happy to be a bit discerning (only 1 point for just filling it in, 2 points if it's good, maybe a rare 3rd point for outstanding) - but please, everybody chip in if they don't like this idea ....

CC

[magnate]

P.S. Please, somebody tell me the days on which the turns are run. I'm planning on giving points for turn 3 reports this weekend, on the assumption that turn 4 runs some time Saturday or Sunday. Then you have until the following run (Wed?) to write turn 4's pieces, etc. etc.

[Karacan]

Check here on Mosehansen to see when the next hosting is due. I think it hosts thursday/monday. Make your own calculations for your timezone.


As for points, I am pretty certain that everyone included does it for the fun, not for points. That said, I don't mind any incentives for everyone to keep writing their stories... I can't wait until turn 60's culmination. Will puffyn locate the missing Holy Butter? Will Lillith the Damned get bored with her new playthings? Will the Ghost of the Wingless finally find the rest he doesn't deserve? Yeah, I read 'em.

[Karacan]

Ermor: Turn 4


Astara's invasion was a successful one, as well, despite heavy resistance. A group of mages was assisting the villagers in their province's defense, and accompanying them was a beast I thought long extinct, a man with a bull's head who cut through Angmar's legions like flies.

Yet my followers prevailed, for neither fear nor terror is known to them, and the man-beast was finally slain like his masters, though not without losses.

Still, I am confident that the remains of my troops are capable of handling the provincal resistance they will encounter further to the north, and there is no rest for my army of the fallen, for now that the failings of the flesh rot from their bones, they have surpassed the pitiful limitations of mere mortals.

Impressed by my general's efforts, Caractor, an ancient Censor of fallen Ermor has decided to join my crusade, for his cause is not unlike mine. He, too, seeks to bring the wisdom of the other side to mortals, albeit for his own reasons. As long as he follows my rule, though, I could not care less of his motives.

My coffers are spilling, and I decide to renew the contract with the mercenary Rolf Magnus who served me surprisingly well for a creature that still clings to this illusionary life. I think my offer is to his liking, and I would be very surprised should he rethink his allegiances. One day, his use for me will cease, but it isn't now, and when that day comes, the caste of clerics I intend to create will have further uses for his corpse.

For I am Noth, the Prince of Famine, and the hunger I arouse is of greed and blood.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 4 ----

I think it is still summer... it has been hard, convalescing in this dark tent, to keep track of the days... it is painful to see my previous words of optimism and I would feel cursed by the gods had I not long since stopped believing in them. Perhaps I do not like to think what terrible deeds I am being punished for. So hard to think I was once an eager file leader... how bright Alexandros's armor was, his dream, and ours, of glorious victory in a far off land.

Poor Xanthos. I do not know what strange thoughts entered his mind as we approached the brigand lair. I saw their number was not great, and given my soldiers' skill knew we would prevail. My soldiers... my soldiers were brilliant... they kept their formation, and would have slain all our foe if only... But Xanthos, my faithful steed and companion... Perhaps he wanted to run free over the open plains -- it was such a fine summer day -- or perhaps he had simply tired of all this war and wanted to die with honor and glory. He would not hear my shouts to stay behind the hoplites, much as I begged him, and he rushed past the front file into the middle of the brigand mob.

What happened next is a blur... I recall one, perhaps two brigands fell beneath Xanthos' hooves (I had no time to draw my sword)... I recall a hail of javelins as my troops tried in vain to scare the brigands away from me and my wild steed. And a sword struck Xanthos, and again, and I fell into darkness.

My men thought I was dead. I heard later that a band of locals rushed out, and three died while the rest dragged me to safety. My hoplites held firm our retreat; they are Greeks. Would that they had a worthier commander... but they will not hear such talk from me. They regard my charge as heroic, and declare that fighting beside me raises their spirits.

It is odd to hear them talk this way, because the villagers have ceased their incessant bowing and butter songs, and once again ignore me. The talk these days is of a great battle that took place near the town of Bolfar. My soldiers swear that none of them went out there to fight, and yet the town pledges allegiance to us, and sends us gold and supplies. The villagers have come up with a new dance, in which they kick one leg and flail their arms. I doubt this would make sense even if I were well.

My butter has not been stolen once since I returned, but I do not have the stomach for it. I wonder what this means.

---

[puffyn]

I agree with Noth, writer of Posts.

This game is all about the stories, rather than "points" or "winning" or other linear, western concepts like having your narrator actually survive long enough to establish a consistent voice.

On a related note: I recently read this AAR and thought that it would be nice to have some maps for our game. Obviously posting pictures of the maps while the game is in progress is a little too revealing, but perhaps everyone could make screenshots (or just a copy of their turn) every five turns. Then, when the game is over, someone could make complete situation maps every 5 turns and edit them into the thread for posterity.