"Living in a town that sits on a dimensional nexus can wear thin after a while. It's not so much the crawling shadows, bizarre weather, or late night visitors from places that never existed; but carrying on with your normal life and trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary is going on in your little corner of the world that gets to you."
A small rural town with surreal secrets, that happens to be situated on a dimensional crossroads, suitable for modern day supernatural/mystical/horror campaigns.
"Ye thought the orbital penitentiary around Venus was hard ta endure? That place is a vacation spot compared to Davy's Lockdown! If the guard borgs can't find an excuse ta peel the skin off yer bones and the inmates don't use ya for their bettin pool, the pressures o' bein that far beneath the waves will drive ya to the brink, mark my words!"
An underwater prison with a dark past, suitable for any sci-fi, neo-dystopian, or cyber punk setting.
"The shipyards, a good place to move illict cargo or lay low for a while, but that ship yard in Philly, it's not a place you want to frequent, not if you wish to keep yer skin on anyway."
A city location with a slight horror slant, suitable for any modern day horror/action setting.
The Ark of Eden was created to be humanity’s future, now it is the future of humanity that lies lost in the blackness of space.
A college campus for modern day settings, where things are more than they seem at first glance. (Good for a horror or mystery setting)
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman