Characters of the Roleplaying Public Radio playthrough of Bryson Springs, by Caleb Stokes.
Featuring, from top-
Lure of The Fisher Of Men- Horror beyond understanding; our minds’ own metaphor.
Jack Filigree- FBI agent, possibly Jason Bourne’s dad.
Mitchum Cleary- Convict, and remarkably clear head in a crisis.
Sheldon Baker- Ace reporter and irrepressible optimist.
Augustus Tenenbaum- Professor of Anthropology, and master of terrible decisions.
Listen to the game HERE. It’s very much worth your time.
Player characters of Caleb Stokes’ magnificent Call of Cthulhu game, Bryson Springs.
Recolour of some old comics. More forthcoming.
Some gross photoshop beasts I found on my hard drive. No idea.
From my sketchbook- some ad-hoc maps for my last long campaign.
The Holy City Of Tarabor-
In fact, neither holy nor a city. It’s a shanty town, filled with refugees, built and ruled over by a megalomaniacal Rejkar calling himself “Taramis, God Of Winter”. Naturally, the PCs decided they liked him so much that they ended up becoming his lieutenants and moving in with him.
Greywatch Rock and The Northern Valley-
The PC’s original home base was the lonely fortress of Greywatch Rock, a far-northern outpost menaced by thousands of migrating orcs descending from the frozen wastes. This maps features many names I made up on the spot when the players asked me to provide more geographical information than I had in my notes- hence, ‘blood river’.
10 track album
MY FRIEND MADE AN ALBUM. LISTEN.
Nostalgia post- characters from a sci-fi story my friend and I were writing many years ago.
This city, she’s a living thing. It might be more accurate to say she’s a dying thing. She sprawls out like an OD’d junkie, goes on farther than anyone cares to look. Blood runs down the endless streets, mixing with the rain that never seems to stop. This city’s got two kinds of people; those who want more, always more, and those who just want to make it through another day. Sin chokes the life out of the city, each day just a little bit more strangled, and it’s just business as usual. Some folks call her the Metropolis. I call her home.
Film noir in a vaguely ageless setting; the Metropolis is just as much Los Angeles or New York as she is Paris or Moscow. She’s just as much a Prohibition-era sprawl in the pockets of the mob as she is a a portrait of modern decay. Skyscrapers and cathedrals and an infinite number of increasingly-shitty apartments all claw their way up to the heavens, trying to escape the apathy and vice that consumes everyone who spends every day with their heads down. It’s always just before midnight, with the rain starting to pick up. Nobody seems to sleep much, and the only light seems to come from dingy street lamps and glowing neon.
Everyone has something they want to hide; there isn’t an innocent soul in this city. It’s easiest to hurry where you’re headed and ignore the burnouts that line the streets, shaking with cold or withdrawal. Most folks want to hide and ignore how wretched the world around them is, finding their peace at the bottom of a bottle or in the arms of someone they don’t really love. The rare few who have any life left in them will do whatever it takes to get what they want. Life in this town is unfortunate and short; if you’re not jaded, your eyes aren’t open.
A handful of folks remember when things used to be better, or hope that things won’t get any worse. They talk about human good or faith in God and how it’s all gonna change someday. It’s best to pat them on the head and wish them good luck with all that. Change isn’t gonna come without a lot of pain and hard work that most of us don’t feel like doing. If you’re stupid enough to know all that and still press on ahead, then you’re one of the few angels this city needs.
(Does it have vampires? I don’t fucking know. They certainly fit.)
Vampires? Not necessary. Only greed, desperation, and the human heart in conflict with itself, as ol’ GRRM would say.
More villains. Tell me which you like best!