grotsnik
Arcane
- Joined
- Jul 11, 2010
- Messages
- 1,671
Because root's 40k CYOA just looked like too much fun to pass up on. Sorry for stealing your idea, root. Doubt this'll be half as good - and the pace will definitely be much slower. This is also my ingenious plan to do an LP without actually having to muck about with screenshots.
The tale's set in 1890; I fully anticipate (nay, demand) people pointing out the various glaring historical inaccuracies. Changed the title. Was shit and not Lovecraftian enough.
*
You have dwelt in the strangest of places. You have roamed the slumbering, nameless cities of marble, and fled from the phantom shapes that crept from below. You have ridden through faerie woods with a host of shadows crying your name in ecstasy.
And, at the heart of all of this, in the deepest and the least human of your dreams, you come to the Circle-Point; the Meeting-Place. That great hallway of a thousand spiralling corridors and alien facades, symmetrical from an infinite-number of perspectives, where the Stone Man cries,
“Glory to the sons and daughters of the Waking! Joy to they who possess the daybreak!”
*
A sharp patter of the rain against the window. You open your eyes, and once again you’re leaning against the shadowy, panelled wall of Miskatonic University’s Reading Room, the grey paintings of former Masters staring down at you.
The room is beginning to fill. Surprising, perhaps, on such a wet and gloomy Sunday night; but then a lecture with the lurid, teasing title of ‘Wondrous Omens: The Eldritch and Secret Hieroglyphics of Bastet and the Ancient Deities’, as well as the widespread rumours that the notorious occultist James Hurley had a very important announcement to make, was always going to attract the attention of a certain sort of person.
At the entrance, the elderly Dean is greeting guests as they trail through. Some of them are students, others middle-aged women who giggle with excitement and trepidation.
One visitor, a younger girl, stands out; dressed all in Paris scarlet, with her black hair let loose – the sort of wild beauty that is rarely seen in a nightmare city like Arkham. As the Dean takes her hand, she leans in and whispers something to him that makes him blush. You take note of the large, intricately etched golden ring on the wedding-finger of her left hand.
Near the fireplace, you catch sight of the noted industrialist Whipple V. Phillips, standing alone, smoking on one of his favourite cigars. The famous man, greyer and slightly leaner than his photographs in the newspapers suggested, looks ill-at-ease amongst this crowd of academics. He catches your eye and dips his head in a short bow.
In the middle of the hubbub, the speaker himself, Professor James Hurley, white-haired and bespectacled, is struggling with the projector, quietly ignoring the occasional student who comes up to ramble praise at him. His Turkish assistant Salman stands sullenly behind him and plucks at his beard, doing nothing.
*
First things first – who are you?
A: A fellow professor at Miskatonic, of course, and Hurley’s colleague in matters of the eldritch and strange archaeology which he’ll be discussing today. Distrusted by many of the faculty, together you have spent years studying the Necronomicon, the Book of Ebon and the other peculiar works that tell of the creatures that dwelt on this earth before mankind.
B: An English gentleman, aristocrat, scoundrel and adventurer; subsisting on your father’s sizeable inheritance, you have travelled the world, moustache forever a-twirl and sword-stick forever in your hand. Having provided Hurley with several rare archaeological finds over the years, it was perhaps fitting that the old man should invite you to his university when he announced the results of your discoveries.
C: Just a poor country girl, and the niece of kindly Uncle James; you have stayed with him in Arkham ever since the untimely death of your mother. Being a well-respected, church-going lady, you don’t delve a great deal into his work, which is considered thoroughly blasphemous by many of your friends. But Uncle James is so nice – and he’s promised you that you may accompany him on his next expedition. You’re almost certain nothing unpleasant will happen to you involving tentacles.
D: An Inspector of the Massachusetts constabulary, you arrived here this morning in order to question Professor Hurley about certain disappearances from amongst his staff over the past six months; and instead you were greeted with a wave of the old man’s hand and a curt reply of,
“It can wait until after the lecture.”
Now it appears you’ll have to sit through an hour or more of academic mumbo-jumbo. Fortunately, you’re a patient man, and you can use the time to study Hurley more closely; already, to your wily gaze, something about the man just doesn’t ring true.
E: You were a cowboy once; then an oil prospector. Now, as you approach old age, your money’s in stock, but you boast that you’re still as tough and as grizzled as the day you first shot an Indian brave dead for stealing your cattle. Your revolver, oiled daily, rests inside your jacket. Professor Hurley, you can only assume, invited you here to try and get some money out of you – the same reason, presumably, that your longtime rival Whipple V. Phillips is attending.
And now that we’ve figured that out; what do you do?
A: Make the acquaintance of the mysterious woman in crimson.
B: Go and speak to Whipple.
C: Help Hurley with the projector.
D: Sneak quietly over to the drinks buffet and help yourself. Fuck talking to people.
The tale's set in 1890; I fully anticipate (nay, demand) people pointing out the various glaring historical inaccuracies. Changed the title. Was shit and not Lovecraftian enough.
*
You have dwelt in the strangest of places. You have roamed the slumbering, nameless cities of marble, and fled from the phantom shapes that crept from below. You have ridden through faerie woods with a host of shadows crying your name in ecstasy.
And, at the heart of all of this, in the deepest and the least human of your dreams, you come to the Circle-Point; the Meeting-Place. That great hallway of a thousand spiralling corridors and alien facades, symmetrical from an infinite-number of perspectives, where the Stone Man cries,
“Glory to the sons and daughters of the Waking! Joy to they who possess the daybreak!”
*
A sharp patter of the rain against the window. You open your eyes, and once again you’re leaning against the shadowy, panelled wall of Miskatonic University’s Reading Room, the grey paintings of former Masters staring down at you.
The room is beginning to fill. Surprising, perhaps, on such a wet and gloomy Sunday night; but then a lecture with the lurid, teasing title of ‘Wondrous Omens: The Eldritch and Secret Hieroglyphics of Bastet and the Ancient Deities’, as well as the widespread rumours that the notorious occultist James Hurley had a very important announcement to make, was always going to attract the attention of a certain sort of person.
At the entrance, the elderly Dean is greeting guests as they trail through. Some of them are students, others middle-aged women who giggle with excitement and trepidation.
One visitor, a younger girl, stands out; dressed all in Paris scarlet, with her black hair let loose – the sort of wild beauty that is rarely seen in a nightmare city like Arkham. As the Dean takes her hand, she leans in and whispers something to him that makes him blush. You take note of the large, intricately etched golden ring on the wedding-finger of her left hand.
Near the fireplace, you catch sight of the noted industrialist Whipple V. Phillips, standing alone, smoking on one of his favourite cigars. The famous man, greyer and slightly leaner than his photographs in the newspapers suggested, looks ill-at-ease amongst this crowd of academics. He catches your eye and dips his head in a short bow.
In the middle of the hubbub, the speaker himself, Professor James Hurley, white-haired and bespectacled, is struggling with the projector, quietly ignoring the occasional student who comes up to ramble praise at him. His Turkish assistant Salman stands sullenly behind him and plucks at his beard, doing nothing.
*
First things first – who are you?
A: A fellow professor at Miskatonic, of course, and Hurley’s colleague in matters of the eldritch and strange archaeology which he’ll be discussing today. Distrusted by many of the faculty, together you have spent years studying the Necronomicon, the Book of Ebon and the other peculiar works that tell of the creatures that dwelt on this earth before mankind.
B: An English gentleman, aristocrat, scoundrel and adventurer; subsisting on your father’s sizeable inheritance, you have travelled the world, moustache forever a-twirl and sword-stick forever in your hand. Having provided Hurley with several rare archaeological finds over the years, it was perhaps fitting that the old man should invite you to his university when he announced the results of your discoveries.
C: Just a poor country girl, and the niece of kindly Uncle James; you have stayed with him in Arkham ever since the untimely death of your mother. Being a well-respected, church-going lady, you don’t delve a great deal into his work, which is considered thoroughly blasphemous by many of your friends. But Uncle James is so nice – and he’s promised you that you may accompany him on his next expedition. You’re almost certain nothing unpleasant will happen to you involving tentacles.
D: An Inspector of the Massachusetts constabulary, you arrived here this morning in order to question Professor Hurley about certain disappearances from amongst his staff over the past six months; and instead you were greeted with a wave of the old man’s hand and a curt reply of,
“It can wait until after the lecture.”
Now it appears you’ll have to sit through an hour or more of academic mumbo-jumbo. Fortunately, you’re a patient man, and you can use the time to study Hurley more closely; already, to your wily gaze, something about the man just doesn’t ring true.
E: You were a cowboy once; then an oil prospector. Now, as you approach old age, your money’s in stock, but you boast that you’re still as tough and as grizzled as the day you first shot an Indian brave dead for stealing your cattle. Your revolver, oiled daily, rests inside your jacket. Professor Hurley, you can only assume, invited you here to try and get some money out of you – the same reason, presumably, that your longtime rival Whipple V. Phillips is attending.
And now that we’ve figured that out; what do you do?
A: Make the acquaintance of the mysterious woman in crimson.
B: Go and speak to Whipple.
C: Help Hurley with the projector.
D: Sneak quietly over to the drinks buffet and help yourself. Fuck talking to people.