Showing posts with label DEATH. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DEATH. Show all posts

Friday, April 8, 2022

Thanatology in the Last Lands - part one

 Undead


Sleep thought from the other day: vampire native form is black mist. They possess bodies which decay at normal rate. Must suck blood to keep body fresh. More blood = younger and stronger


Some games have vampires possess living human bodies.


I like corpses because they have a shelf life, dissolve into goo, and have an excuse to force vamp to drink blood


Also image of vamp w/o fangs biting & sucking blood like a remora is fun


They can't cross running water because it'll wash their mist body out thru orifices


Also they have to return to grave soil at morning to refresh. Store your rotting meat suit in a coffin of vermicompost. Back up bodies in giant urns of fermented sludge.


Raising dead requires installing a new soul. There's different ways of doing this but jewels are compact and effective. The more valuable the jewel the stronger the soul it can contain. Djinn and Efreeti are basically incorporeal so they can be captured too by a sufficiently potent sorcerer.


Easiest source of souls is captured children, but they're the least competent. Thus skeletons sing nursery rhymes, play hopscotch, pelt PCs with stones (harmless but annoying), and run away cackling when they're caught.


Adult souls are more capable but they can be confused by death, especially if they died unexpectedly or in great anguish. Unless regularly subdued they eventually go mad and turn feral.


Unwilling souls lose their memories, will, and the majority of their prowess, though they may retain bits. Thus undead servants can be raised to perform menial tasks based on their living profession.


Souls of scholars can organize libraries, sort texts, and act as scribes, though they're mindless and incapable of understanding any of it, being basically automata, so they can't combine ideas or interpret materials.


Souls of warriors make okay fighters, but fall short of living warriors. The benefit is that they're fearless, never tire, and feel no pain.


Undead peasants, porters, sailors, and smiths can pull plows, tie down cargo, adjust sails, and produce works, but their quality is shoddy at best. They don't tire or require supervision though, although they don't know to switch tasks on their own so you're liable to return to the forge and find a thousand horse shoes and a bored skeleton counting ants in the corner.


Willing participants are best and rarest, they maintain their memories and capabilities in death but their personality is erased. Never possess a corpse with it's original soul. Just trust me on this.


Fragments of personality may occasionally bubble to the surface. Nothing important. They may start imitating past activities in a harmlessly mindless way, organizing snail shells by color and size, staring at stars, counting hair follicles on a scalp, staring uncomprehendingly at a page in a book, or playing a game of mock chess with themselves using rocks. All done totally silently. Without orders they'll wait around patiently until something triggers them.


Skeletons have the soul crystal imbedded in their skull, the cavity of which is filled with gelatinous ichor. The top of the skull is replaced with riveted steel. Many necromancers keep desiccated mummies around as backstock. They're nice because they don't fall apart or rot.


Shamblers are walking corpses and have soul crystals embedded in their exposed hearts which swell and pump black ichor through their veins, animating them. They decompose in time if not taken care of, albeit slowly. If kept in a cool dry environment they can last centuries.


All undead go feral if their master dies, if they aren't given orders for too long, or if the incantations subduing them aren't refreshed often enough.


Souls trapped in undead bodies suffer great agony. They don't know what's happening to them and they seem to be living in a hellish prison and tormented by terrible visions mixing their past and current unlife. The suffering caused generates serious karmic defilements in the caster, twisting their karmic alignment towards chaos. The rebirths of powerful necromancers are invariably in the worst hells.


Thus they are motivated by self preservation to find the secrets of eternal life, to cheat reincarnation, or to transmit their souls to demons or other necromancers on the promise of safe keeping or installing into a fresh body. The worst kinds of lich are a sorcerer and apprentice pair that pass their souls back and forth for eternity, cloning or capturing new bodies with each iteration, and growing forever in knowledge. 


Wraiths, ghosts, shades, shadows, specters, voidlings, etc are confused dead souls which, due to unsatisfactory burial, incompleted obsessions, or other types of clinging failed to successfully transfer into the Mouth of Death. Without realizing the nature of their state dead souls often fixate on their old life and become trapped on this plane when the Mouth of Death gate closes.


Thus they wander, trying to live their old life, slowly going insane with frustration. Often they become violent or vengeful. These spirits can be manipulated by evil sorcerers, used as slaves or guardians, or sent as agents to inflict disease and misfortune.


All undead feed on life essence, often in the form of spiritual essence, flesh, organs or bodily fluids.


For information on the nature of the afterlife, attachment, and rebirth, read "the Tibetan Book of the Dead". I recommend the Jung commentary. I'll do another segment on how that plays into my campaign world.


Friday, July 12, 2019

Player Death Scenes are why I play D&D

this post brought to you by the letter "I"

So my descriptions could use a little bit of work. I have trouble finding the balance between just enough information and not too much. The place I don't have to hold back is character deaths.

Players get attached to their characters. How could they not? I started out my DMing career struggling with guilt. Now I take sick satisfaction at their crestfallen looks as their dude is smashed into a fine paste. Don't get me wrong, I want the players to succeed, and I revel in their glory when they do. At the same time I don't pull punches and I reinforce the fact that their lives are fragile, and the only thing keeping them alive is proper planning.

I have a habit of switching into the third-person as they die. Thus I'm addressing what the survivors see happen. Typically the player stops listening about halfway through and stares glumly at their character sheet while the rest of the party leans in. It's a good time.

Here's a collection of death descriptions, pulled from memory, from the last few player deaths. Enjoy.

First character death ever, from the first trapped coffin in Tomb of the Serpent King.
"You open the coffin and the mold around the lid releases a burst of yellow gas...the spores pour into your lungs. Lettuce chokes and takes a step back, her fingernails clawing her at her throat, her eyes bulging like yellow grapes. She slumps to the ground, blood seeping from her lips and ears and finally lays motionless."

The fighter charged a goblin with her spear and critically fumbled. The goblin followed up with an attack from behind and critically hit. I tend to have players roll initiative at the beginning of the fight, then let things unfold as the fiction dictates. If it seems like the tide is turning in a weird way, or there's a regrouping effort we re-roll initiative.
"You charge at the frogman with your spear lowered. The cretin drops its spear and throws itself to the ground at the last second as your momentum takes you sailing over it....Now behind Pannelia, the cretin jumps to its feet and hurls itself onto her back. It snatches a crude bone knife from its belt and rakes it across her throat, tendon and flesh rip and snap, blood spraying from the open wound. Pannelia collapses to the floor gurgling, her helpless eyes glazing over."

Fighter with 1 max hp attacks a psychic tentacle brain with blade arms.
"Your axe sails past it as the creature lurches to the side, blaring a series of honks on its tube-like projections. Its bladed tentacle shoots forth, piercing Buzzuraz through the chest. He screams pitifully, bleached fingers tugging uselessly at the tentacle as he's lifted into the air. Soundlessly, the tentacle creature retracts the blade, dropping him to the ground. He squirms and riggles, gasping for the air before falling motionless. <you cannot defy us> you feel the creature's cheerful voice penetrate your skull <we don't want to hurt you, please just stop and listen to what we have to say>"
The party's caravan is attacked by giant moniter lizards in the plains. Hilarity and a chain of fumbles and crits ensue.
"You cleave the first monitor lizard's head clean from its neck and the creature begins thrashing and squirming on the ground, flinging blood and hissing. As you turn another monitor appears next to you, its mouth agape. Its needle-rimmed jaw closes over Uglat's face and drags him to the ground, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll.. After several painful moments his body disconnects from the head and crashes across the ground. The monitor's mouth splits into a wide grin as it crushes his skull in its mouth, blood and brain fluid seeping through the cracks."

Player smashed in a falling block trap.
"Insidia turns with a look of surprise on her face as the block begins to fall. She reaches her hand out and is crushed instantly, her body folding in half, her scream cut short by the thundering WHUMP. Her arm is sheared cleanly at the elbow and goes sailing overhead. There is neither blood nor sound in the aftermath."
(To show just how merciless my players can be one of them sharpened Insidia's arm stump into a point and used it to pick a lock later on. Also they gleefully start digging through the victim's equipment before their body is even cold and before that player has even had a chance to roll the Strength score for their next guy.)
Player activates a floor spear trap.
"There's a clank of machinery from inside the wall and a spear shoots out underneath Lamnar. In a flash it pierces through her groin and explodes out the top of her head, she's lifted a foot and a half off the ground. Her eyes search the room for some meaning in this, but there is no meaning, then her limbs begin to flail and shake and she stops moving."
Happy Halloween.