The Anthropophage

In a previous post I added a one-page setting document for a far-future city in a world inspired by Jack Vance's Dying Earth stories. One of the hazards mentioned but not described thanks to space restrictions is the anthropophage. And that might be best, because I think with the one page setting concept, it's proper for a GM to interpret the beasties in a manner that suits their campaign. Michael Prescott often includes creatures as a name only in his Trilemma adventure locations, as a kernel for GMs to form ideas around.

But I've been thinking a little more about my Mad City hazards. At first I intended the anthropophages to be poetically-named human cannibals, decadent and morally bankrupt. Now though, I think I like the idea that they're a separate species entirely. Something out of antiquity, from a previous age of the Earth. Maybe even that age's human race, devolved into savagery. I always wondered how Vance's deodands originated. Irresponsible magical experimentation? Visually, I'm inspired by Doctor Who's Futurekind. 

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It's common wisdom that the Lighthouse has revived the human race from extinction on at least three occasions. Since the last revival, the world has been plagued by man-eating anthropophages. It's possible that during the last age of man the human race degenerated into this predatory form and no longer met the Lighthouse's minimum standard for 'human', triggering the next revival.

The typical Thropo is human-looking, but with a spine curved slightly forward and bowed legs, as though frozen in in the moment of springing at a victim. They also have leopard-like spots on shoulders and neck, where they can be easily hidden by clothing. And carnivorous teeth. There's a noticeably musky smell about them, like a lion or other large predator. They like to attack at night, when the darkness hides their nature. A common tactic is for a female or cub to pretend to be wounded and call for help, drawing rescuers into a pack ambush. They've been known to join travelling caravans, stepping into the column one by one until they have the numbers to grab someone and drag them away, quietly incapacitating them in the process. They have a talent for mimicry and learn languages easily.

Thropos are cunning, but not clever. They don't plan long-term. They can use tools or technology if they see a human use them first, but don't retain the knowledge. Specimens in captivity have learned to read, but they show no interest in doing it without the threat of punishment. They're highly sensitive to human moods and quickly pick up on stress or fear. Thropos themselves don't react to fear like human beings. They'll retreat from a conflict if the odds are against them, but if cornered they fight without hesitation or holding back.

Packs usually number around 3D4 of all ages. When food is scarce, Thropos cope by eating their weakest. A pack which has had lean times will have no cubs or older specimens with them. When there's real risk of starvation, they turn on pregnant females as well. They can supplement their diet with animal meat, but a Thropo that doesn't get at least half its protein from human flesh will grow sickly and become a target for others.

Communities which catch or kill Thropos like to dismember the bodies (so they don't distress residents with their human appearance) and put the parts on high stakes at a distance around their settlements. Thropos can smell their own dead for miles, and are less likely to hunt where other Thropos have been killed. Even so, their numbers have been growing in recent years. Well-known settlements in the plains have been wiped out by Anthropophage predation. In these times of lost hope, only creatures that never think further than their next meal can thrive.

HD 2, AC 6 [13], Att 2 claws (1d4) 1 bite (1d6), MV (120') 40', SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (F2), ML 9, AL Chaotic

Specials:

• Howl. Once per combat a Thropo may spend an action to make a screech that triggers an atavistic dread in any living man. Human characters of level equal or less than the Thropo must save or freeze for a turn.
• Frenzy. A Thropo bloodied but still in positive HP gains 1D6 temporary HP that lasts until the end of the fight. It's quite possible for a Thropo to defeat all opponents and then keel over dead from their wounds.

If a player wants to play an anthropophage: why? Did their serial killer character get locked up? Create the character with -2 INT +1 WIS.  Each day they go hungry, make a saving throw vs paralysis.  On failure, immediately start hunting the nearest suitable prey.  -1 to the roll per extra day spent hungry. Each week they don't eat human meat, roll vs death or take -1 CON with no natural recovery until their next meal of long pig. Each turn, NPCs can make an opposed WIS roll to realise what it is they're standing next to.

Earth-at-the-end

A while back I posted my dying Earth one page setting, The Mad City.  I thought I was finished with it but it's been on my mind lately, because I'm not sure there isn't more to be done with it.  A single page doesn't have room for more than a sketch of the setting and in writing it I found myself putting aside ideas that interested me but needed more detail than I could go into without overflowing the page.  Some of them seemed like they were worth getting down in text.

This post is to serve as a kind of setting bible, so I can get my thoughts on tone, theme, etc. down in one spot.

The premise

Earth is old.  Unimaginably old.  Epochs have come and gone.  The sun has shrunk to a glowing coal.  The planet's core has cooled, mountains have worn down to hills.  There isn't a square inch of land that hasn't seen epic adventures of greed, altruism, lust, courage, tyranny, nobility, betrayal, redemption, rebellion and rebuilding play out a hundred times over.  The Lighthouse has revived the human race from extinction at least three times.  There's no history any more because it's all history.  Where would you even begin?

Earth is tired.  All the ores and useful minerals have been dug up and used.  The ground is nothing but stone and dirt now.  The magnetic field flickered and died.  The oceans shrank.  The environment is maintained by ancient machinery, but most of the land is sterile desert.  The other planets are gone, mined away to nothing.  Siphoned away into hydrogen fuel to feed the sun for another eon.  Now there's nothing left.

Earth is dying. Everyone agrees that the sun is in its last decade of life.  It might explode and destroy the world in fire, it might gutter out like a cooling ember and freeze the world in darkness.  There are different schools of thought, but there doesn't seem much point in arguing about it.  Whoever's right won't have much time to gloat.  The skills to operate the machines that might have saved us vanished megayears ago.

People are handling this knowledge in different ways.  The majority carry on the way they have their whole lives.  If crops don't get harvested and replanted, they'll starve before the sun has a chance to kill them.  Perhaps they make more time for family and friends than previous generations have.  Others are giving in to despair and letting it degrade them.  Abandoning responsibilities, chasing grudges, surrendering to hedonistic urges they might have kept buried if there was going to be time to have regrets.  A few (and hopefully this is where the player characters would come in) aren't ready to give up easily and spend their remaining time doing what good they can and chasing rumours and folklore about forgotten technology that could save even just a few.

The style

People live fairly primitive lives for the most part.  The majority are subsistence farmers.  They might enjoy a few conveniences that need advanced science to develop but function just fine at a subsistence level - farmhouses are very commonly heated and lit by burning methane gas fermented in simple biogas plants under the building.  A village might be built around a single surviving machine from an earlier age that provides an important resource.

Cities tend to be where the most ancient technology can be found.  It's no longer under human control but it carries on working by itself, providing heat, light, food, etc.  Sometimes it's a threat as well -- robot cops run amok and killing indiscriminately, industrial processes poisoning the streets -- but people still hold on in the cities because the deterioration has been gradual and their cultures have developed rituals and taboos that keep them safe for the most part.

Technology is, and isn't, a mystery.  In most cases how it works is unknown, but what it's meant to do is obvious.  The methods of the people who built it half a million years may have been swallowed up by the dust of history, but in any age people are people, with reliably human motives.  Magic is technology.  Monsters are machines following orders from long-dead masters to walk a perimeter and kill intruders.  Building a golem is done by assembling parts stripped from defunct mechanical arbeiters.  A healing 'spell' might be a device produced to keep meat edible by reversing entropy.  (Knave seems like a good system for this, since it already treats spells as inventory items.)

The situation

As the end comes, forgotten devices all over the continent are starting to reactivate on their own.  Transport networks are coming back to life and automated vehicles have started moving - often with no regard for any structures that might have been built in the way since they last rolled or flew.  (One of my influences is pulp novels from the 1970s in which artificial intelligence could be maddeningly simple-minded.)  Many of them are in an indifferent state of repair and adventurers using them to access the isolated areas of the continent need to be both agile and prepared.

The reactivation has encouraged some people to hope for the world's survival, but for the most part they're working at cross purposes.  Lighthouse cults practice human sacrifice to give the giant orbital installation the power it needs to save us.  Scholarly cabals sabotage each other out of fear that if there are still-working spaceships, there will only be enough to carry a few.  Powerful nihilists want to ensure the world dies because their twisted philosophy tells them that to be the final generation is to be the most important of all generations.

The tone

What I'm going for here is bleak-but-with-hope.  Even with the player character efforts, things are probably going to end badly.  They're surrounded by examples of people who've lost hope and decided to forget about it and carouse their remaining time away.  But if there is salvation, even if only for a few, it'll be because PC action made it happen.

The Harry Clark project

Emmy Allen has proposed a community-sourced bestiary based on the artwork of Harry Clark.  Clark's artwork is perfect for this.  It's surreal and symbolic and in many cases you have to project your own meaning on it.

The image I chose is probably a bit more straightforward than that, it's a Madonna with child.  But she's black-robed and standing next to a black-flamed candle and there's an eye in the floor observing her.  I decided to write the image up as a dark reflection of religious iconography, sucking the light and the sanity out of the room.

Anti-Madonna

Armour Class: as unarmoured. Immune to non-magical attacks.
Hit Dice: 1
Move: as human unless new light is introduced (see specials)
Attacks: Impious aura
No. Appearing: 1
Morale: 9
Treasure: 1D6 shards of curse-glass
Alignment: Chaotic

Magicians are a perverse lot, always tampering with the natural order. A wizard's mirror which has held the reflection of a saint has a chance to produce an anti-Madonna, a profane likeness of a holy figure. The image moves as if alive and whispers a constant monologue of baffling blasphemy, but is immaterial and non-intelligent. More like an independent illusion. It desires worship in the form of sacrifice and can be temporarily appeased by destroying an item of personal value. It has the following powers:

Anti-light: When an anti-Madonna appears, all natural light sources become sources of darkness and change to suck light out of the surrounding area. Magical sources will be dimmed as though appearing through a thick gloom.

Speed of dark: If new light is introduced, the anti-Madonna can instantly jump to any space the light touches. It will become a dark source at the end of the round in which it is lit.

Litany of ignorance: Intelligent creatures close enough to hear its whispered words must save vs paralysis. Clerics who fail to save lose a prepared spell.

The creature can be dispelled like an illusion or destroyed with any kind of magical attack. It is immune to fear and mind-control effects and cannot be turned. Turn attempts at a high enough level to destroy it outright work as normal.

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/.

PDF version here.  There's a Reddit thread for the project here.