Archive for Gaming

A new dimension-traveling threat for the Delta Green RPG.

It swims lazily through the air, propelling itself with waving fiber-optic fronds like some sort of vibrant deep-sea feather star, catching the currents of an ocean that human eyes cannot perceive. It’s a mass of vibrant, curling frills the size of a compact car, pulsating with a hypnotic array of nameless colors to a rhythm matching that of a heartbeat-

Your heartbeat, in fact, which begins to accelerate as you realize that the creature floating before you is drifting in your direction with speed one wouldn’t expect from something so delicate. You try to run, but it’s no use; your entire body feels as if suspended in water, and your feet cannot find any purchase on the ground.

Whatever otherworldly currents this creature swims through, you are now caught in them.

These strange, grotesque creatures were once human women, priestesses of The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young. Each was a matriarch of a cult or temple whose children and grandchildren also served the Outer Goddess. In their twilight years such priestesses are granted special favor to live on and serve their goddess as a Sacred Ewe of the Black Goat. It is considered the highest honor, granted to only the most devout and deserving servants. Such creatures are effectively immortal, although not invulnerable as they can be slain through violence or misadventure. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Gilman. Amanda, I and the rest of the staff at Sefton are here for your benefit. You understand that, right? Good. Now, for the record, I’m Dr. Theodore Gilman, chief psychiatrist at Sefton Asylum in Arkham, Massachusetts. Will you state your name and then tell us what happened?”

It looked just like any normal human. It was only under closer examination that the true horror that had lived in our midst became clear. Vile abomination! An unholy blending of human and alien flesh used to invade and undermine our civilization. What’s worse it wore the flesh of an old friend. If I could hunt down every last one of those monstrosities and all of their alien kin I would! Unfortunately you idiots have me locked up in this ‘institution’.

Taken from a transcript of an interview with Martin Case, a patient at Agnews State Mental Hospital, Santa Clara, CA.

Alternative names: Vile abominations. 

“Phagos” is the Greek suffix for “eating”, and “auto” means the self. The Autóphagos are  humans who devour themselves while becoming an appalling creature. Whether they are infected with a disease, cursed, able to transcend death and transform through intense self hatred or, instead, are preternatural creatures incubating as homo sapiens has not been  determined. 

Elijah, Nathan, and myself, along with a few others, including some of the town’s older boys, went out to the Willow place. Old Jeff had hung himself on the porch, twisting in the wind before his yard. The yard had been plowed up like a field. There were some string-like plants growing there. Pure white with purplish bulges. Kind of rope like. Whole thing was damnable. We hadn’t set one foot on the property and yet we could barely walk given the shudders. You’d think a blizzard was coming in the way we shook, trembling there on the fence line. Elijah finally went forward. I followed. The first stalk we came across was about four feet tall. By far the tallest of the lot. Elijah nudged it with his boot and the thing moved. No wind. It just folded over. Trying to get away. It was then we saw the veins. Thin red ridges pumping away. One of the purplish bulges blinked. Elijah screamed. I’m told I fainted. By the time I came to that “field” had been all torn up. Emma and the children were above ground again. Her had had been split with a plow. Same with the brother and his sisters. Not from us. That must have been old Jeff’s doing. Their bodies had roots and shoots like potatoes. They writhed. They… bled. The Willows and their place were burned that very night.

C. Davis: “I already said, these fuckers aren’t growing plants!”
R. Miles: “Just breath, Cynthia. Be honest with me. Are you off your meds?”
C. Davis: “Fuck you.”
R. Miles: “Please be calm, Cyn—”
C. Davis: “Are you even listening to me?! I’m telling you. They have some… thing in this lab. Something big. Bigger than a house.”
R. Miles: “I am going to call someone, Cynthia. You need help.”
C. Davis: “Don’t you hang up on me! Don’t you understand? It whispers things, Ron. It told me how to make the seeds. Oh, God! All those missing people…”
R. Miles: “I’m calling the cops, Cynth. You’re not well.”

—Transcript from the last known phone call of Cynthia Davis, Investigative Reporter, Missing since last January.

         It was just a glass, or so I thought. That’s how it appeared anyway. Really simple, like from a cafeteria–complete with those white rings of tiny little scratches from the dish machine shaking them around. 

I chose physical and drank down the water. It happened fast; I felt confused and a little dizzy. I have to admit, since that day I’ve felt a little dumb. But strong, really strong

–William Watkins, a member of a group of friends who have stumbled onto greater truths.

Every kid sees danger in the dark, it’s the primordial instinct that allowed us to survive and thrive into what we are now. But this isn’t just kids being scared of the dark, there’s something there taking them! There’s been a consistent number of disappearances and I think I found a pattern. I think something is taking them, every year the pattern goes to a different state, but all of the victims attended the same health care centers before disappearing. There is something actually in the dark, preying on children and using the parents as patsies for their crimes. I have a lead, a serious lead, I think that the murderer is using the system of treatment to identify suitable families to prey on and then blame the parents to keep the heat of them. I am meeting a contact tonight who reached out to me after my last attempt to interview a Dr, whom I think is connected to it all. If all goes well, I should be able to blow the lid on this and help to capture Dr Death. 

The closet doors opened on their own. From the darkness inside, five hands reached forth, each grabbing the doorframe. The wood beneath the clawed hands groaned as it pulled itself forward. A blackened mist, a miniature storm cloud, spilled out of the dark. Within the cloud, a half-dozen mouths of dagger-like teeth swirled and snapped. Four pairs of red eyes, spider eyes, swirled as well. They fixed themselves forward as the cloud glided toward the little girl asleep in bed.