One thing holds consistent across the numerous worlds of science fiction and fantasy: everyone speaks the same language. Whether it's Lojban, English, Common, or the High Tongue of the Autumn Empire; there's one language that everyone knows, unless plot demands otherwise.
Field Guide on Werewolves, and those who hunt them.
by Dr. Johan Kosdin Lerkoviski
Known Lycanthrope Hunter, Specializing in Werewolves
As gamers we have done the western with laser pistols, six shooters and steam tech. Shadow run alone has covered more noir ground than MGM did between 1945 and 1955. I hope we managed the horror genre well, and the murder mystery almost always sneaks its way into our campaigns. But do we always know we are doing it? Can genre sit right in front of us an yet go undefined? I think it has happened and a speculative fiction genre of all things.
The basics behind the 100 Word Submission
A delectable chrismas classic - Now with mayhem!
A hopefully amusing Strolen.com version of the Twelve Days of Christmas.
Give your magic item a quick history. Then use the history to tie a whole bunch of things together that will make you look like a genius.
Busy GMs need help prepping for games faster. And you can create fantastic magic items in just three minutes using my stat block.
Why is psuedo-Medieval Tolkien-esque fantasy the heart of the fantasy RPG genre?
A Scrasamax rebuild/rewrite incorporating elements of Vampire the Masquerade, Requiem, and some stuff that I made up or borrowed from popular Vampire culture. Without background knowledge of the Vampire game or system, most of this might not make much if any sense.
Base of operations for the expanding revisioning of Cthulutech, and codex for relevant submissions
Confiscated log entries concerning research, particle scanners, micromachines, and computer software on the subject of Teleportation.
Ah, yes. The darkest of nights and the reflection of a casting light. In Shadow lies the powers of stealth and silence, the ultimate tool for a secretive victory.
There is a being we know as Manfred. His generators of randomness have aided the Citadel in times of need, but what of his career as a time-traveller? This is the first in a series uncovering the secret origins of famed Strolenati members. I fear I must type quickly, there are those who wouls not want you to read this. Will you crawl deeper into the rabbit hole?
In time long past the Citadel was new and innocent. As the years went on much was added to include the ability to vote and comment. Ever since then there has been prosperous periods where the votes and comments were just a tool and the Horde was happy. But subtle battles raged, sides were taken and votes were interpreted as acts of aggression. Much dread and drama followed these battles and authors were lost. So was birthed the Law of the Hammer.
Hell. A place of suffering and torment, a often used and cliche ridden place that every GM has to relate to.
Giving NPCs memories can go a long way to making a more realistic and enjoyable game world.
This is not a submission about creating NPCs, this is about presenting them. Not everyone walks around with a different accent, strange tic, or catchphrase, our memories are what make us different.
An alternate way to present your campaigns history, (or a weapon/piece of equipments legacy) to your players.
A similar sub to Mourns Voting Practices, simply how I vote on subs/vote in general.
The Diary of young girl who finds herself trapped in purgatory, searching salvation and trying to make sense of that which is deliberatly insane. (A prelude to the entry found in my Chasers submission.)
Ideally the creatures described within this (ongoing) sub will be detailed in turn as their own seperate submissions eventally painting a complete picture of purgatoy.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.