Friday, May 13, 2011

"N" is for "Nuculusk"

Nuculusk

No. Enc.:  1d4 (1d10)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  30' (10')
Armor Class:  9
Hit Dice:  4
Attacks:  1 (bite)
Damage:  1d3
Save:  L2
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  125

Congregating in toxic waste dumps, ruined reactors, and abandoned laboratories, nuculusks are rubbery slugs that feed on radiation. Their thick, black bodies reach anywhere from 2' to 4' long, and continually glow with a pale green light (meaning they never Surprise opponents with visual senses). They have no difficulty clinging to vertical surfaces and ceilings.

Nuculusks, when agitated, fire beams of intense radiation from their antennae, ranging from Class 5 to Class 10 (determined at random on 1d6—Class 5 on a 1, Class 6 on a 2, etc.). And nuculusks can detect radiation at distances of up to mile away...meaning they are frequently drawn to the nuclear power sources of Basic Androids.

Mutations: Bizarre Appearance (Luminescence) [D], Optic Emissions (Gamma Eyes), Reflective Epidermis (Radiation), Unique Sense (Detect Radiation), Ultraviolet Vision

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

"A" is for "Anglion"


Anglion

No. Enc.:  1 (1d4)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40')
      —Swim:  90' (60')
Armor Class:  5
Hit Dice:  5
Attacks:  3 (2 claws, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d4 / 1d4 / 1d10
Save:  L3
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  VII, VIII
XP:  800

An anglion (rhymes with "ganglion") is a bizarre predator roughly the size of an Ancient big cat.  It has large jaws, 4 eyes, a scaly hide, a mane and tail-bristles comprised of rows of poisoned spines, and a prominent bulb jutting from its forehead.  They prefer wet environs (being equally at home in fresh and salt water), but also prowl swamps, grasslands, forests, caves, and ruins.

While capable hunters, anglions prefer lying in ambush, and luring prey with their strobing bulbs.  Their bioluminescence can be seen up to half a mile away.  The light has a peculiar effect on sentients, as any seeing it within 50' are hypnotized on a failed Saving Throw Versus Stun.  An entranced victim shambles up to the lurking anglion, and stands helpless as the creature gets in one free round of attacks, at which point the victim awakens...

...however, anyone successfully striking an anglion with a melee attack—whether unarmed, or with a weapon—must immediately make an Ability Check Versus Dexterity to avoid the beast's quills.  Failure indicates being stung and injected with venom of Class 1-10 (determined at random on a 1d10).  Truly, the only safe way to combat an anglion is from a distance!

Anglions also use their bulbs to generate a disorienting flash, which acts as the Optic Emissions (Bright Eyes) Physical Mutation.

While there are distinct physiological similarities between anglions and the larger bearcudas, they are not related; it's simply convergent mutation in action.

Mutations:  Aberrant Form (Gills and Lungs), Dermal Poison Slime (Limited), Optic Emissions (Bright Eyes), Unique Mutation ("Hypno-Bulb")

Monday, May 9, 2011

"ALL HAIL THE SHELLED GOD!!!" (or, "Insert Gamera Joke Here")

Yesterday was the inaugural session of my Don't Mess With Wrexus campaign.  It was a doozy.

Due to illness, my player pool went from 6 to 3 at the last minute, so I scrapped my ruin-crawl adventure and went with the tried-and-true "rescue the kidnappee" plot.



Our cast:

Penny The Craw:  Not only is she obsessed with fashion and finding Ancient toys for her allicat, Baxter, she's also the precocious teenage daughter of Carl Clawson, one of Gone-Woe's key leaders on The Council Of Seven.  Her big brothers Dave and Steve are elite scavengers in the Forager's Guild.  Penny is convinced that her parents don't love her, because she never gets to go on adventures.

Grabthar:  Grabthar is a 16'-tall humanoid turtle with a razored beak, GigantismEnergy Ray (heat-breath), Neural Telekinesis, Poison Susceptibility [D], Reduced Immune System [D], and below average Hit Points for his Constituion.  [When rolling him up, he rolled Gigantism twice, and ended up being 44' tall.  That was a game-breaker, so I had him re-roll the extra, and he got another Drawback instead.  Seemed fair to me.]  Because of enormous size and health woes, Grabthar was abandoned by his people (the Galapagon tribe, who are now long gone in the wilderness) as a tike, and was found by the Clawsons.  So...Grabthar is Penny's adopted kid brother.  And everyone calls him Sniffles.



Hobodeath:  In Real Life, Hobodeath's player is a tough-as-nails-but-lady-through-and-through army sarge, so it seemed a natural fit that she wanted to play a combat-centric Basic Android bounty hunter with Energy Ray (Cold)Killing Sphere, and Natural Armor.  Gleeful visions of gun-toting robo-babes from Heavy Metal and 2000 AD came to mind...but here's how she succinctly described her character:  "Like 'It's Pat' from 'Saturday Night Live'."  So, she's an androgynous, lumpy murder-bot...who wears a tattered black Ancient concert shirt that reads "Hobodeath".  Oh, yeah—she's traveling the Mutant Future in search of a mate(?!), thus bringing her to Gone-Woe.



The Adventure:  After setting the stage about Gone-Woe, Wrexus, with a little presentation about the game world, the economy (it's based a conglomeration of scavenged compact discs, credit cards, aluminum cans, and barter), and name-dropping some key NPC residents, the adventure began with an alarm at the main gate.  A lone member of the Forager's Guild was there, battered and bloody.  Turns out his team was ambushed by raiders to the south, and had their loot stolen...but they all escaped despite their injures.  However, just 5 miles from the safety of town, they were ambushed again and, weak and vulnerable, they were dragged off into the forbidden woods surrounding Camp Strike (an old recreational area of The Ancients now overgrown and overrun with critters).  Only he escaped, and his final words before passing out were: "Swamp gobblers."

The fact that the carnivorous xottle people had kidnapped them was bad enough, but things took a personal turn because Dave and Steve were amongst those take!  Oh, the horrible fate that awaited them!

While The Elders and Security Guild squabbled about how best to proceed, Penny and Sniffles recruited Hobodeath with the promise of a pet crawdog (for use as a hunting animal) to lead them into the ruins of Camp Strike.  They crept from the village (as only a 16'-tall tortoise-teen, a crawdad-gal, and andryno-borg can) and into the wilds.

Random encounter time!  The group ran into 3 radpoles drinking from a pond, and while Penny really wanted to talk to them "because they might have valuable information," the others talked her out of it.  [I would've LOVED to see how that played out.]  The group crept past, leaving the glowing amphibians alone.

The group pressed deeper, and discovered some cement slabs on the ground, and then some rotting shacks.  One had a faded sign hanging by rusted chains, and on the sign was a strange logo and the letters DSA (or maybe BSA...it was too faded to make out) that looked like this:



They decided to rummage through the buildings [which involved Sniffles just lifting the roofs off one by one and peeking inside like they were cookie jars]...and that's when they disturbed a nest of 8 leapteeth!

Combat ensued, with Hobodeath and Sniffles slaughtering beasties left and right, and Penny missing every attack and getting repeatedly chomped about the face and neck.  She was demoralized by her lack of combat prowess ("Maybe dad is right...I'm just a dumb girl who can't do anything!"), but her teammates did their best to cheer her.

After killing the beasties, the PCs uncovered two 3'-tall, non-human skeletons with enlarged, toothy skulls that had all been picked clean and gnawed.  Swamp gobbler remains?!  One had a small sack tied to its waist, and it contained some ambiguous dried-out meat, a few scratched up silver discs with holes in the center (one reading "Billy Joel's Greatest Hits"), and a small black metal box with colored bulbs on its front, a suction cup on its top, and wires coming out of the back.

Exploring the cabin, they also found a rusted file cabinet, and inside were some soggy, tattered, 1-inch cloth discs:




With the sun going down and many dead leapteeth to snack on, the group made camp in the shacks.  Penny and Sniffles fell asleep, and the all-business Hobodeath ventured out to explore the woods further.

The robot was soon drawn to the rhythmic sounds of drums and the flickering glow of a raging fire, and she crept to a clearing where she spotted a horrifying sight:  over 25 diminutive swamp gobblers (including li'l foot-tall xottlings) chanting and dancing around a giant boiling pot, while others assembled an over-sized roasting spit.  Overseeing this spectacle was an atypically spiny, spiky xottle with a feathered headdress, and a 4' tall xottle with a crown sitting in a throne made of bones and rubble.  And just beyond the firelight was a cage with the captives!  Oh, the horrors!


Hobodeath rushed back and awoke her companions, and the group sped back for a rescue with this plan in mind:  the robot would create a diversion at the sound end of the clearing, and while she was dealing with the gobblers, Sniffles and Penny could free the hostages at the north end.  The dialogue ended like this:

Penny:  "But how will we know when you give the signal?"
Hobodeath:  "Oh, you'll know...you'll know."
Penny:  "But how are you going to handle them?"
Hobodeath:  "Oh, you'll see...you'll see."

So the group split and took their positions...and just in time, too, for as they settled in, a bubbling, wheezing voice echoed through the clearing:

"...and it issss with great pleasure that I, the humble Sssshaman Goiglug, blessss thissss great feasssst to honor our mighty Chief Kagluushk and commemorate the glorioussss day of his sssspawning!  Let ussss feed!"

At that, the guards unlocked the cages so as to drag their captives to the pot and spit...

...when out of the southern darkness zipped a crossbow bolt that hit the chief square in the shoulder, and pinned him to his throne [Hobodeath rolled a 17, and max 8 damage].  The chief wailed in agony, the xottles froze in surprise...

...and then Hobodeath strode into the clearing, and in the most pitch-perfect, Schwarzenegger-ean deadpan this GM has ever heard, said:

"Happy birthday." 

And then she shot the chief again, pinning his other shoulder to the throne...and his wailing went up enough octaves to shatter glass.  [She rolled a 19, and 7 damage!]

At this point the 20+ xottles went berzerk, and surged across the clearing to get at the robot.  She lowered her crossbow, and stood there confidently with nothing but a smirk on her face.

Penny and Sniffles decided that had to be the signal in question, so they attacked the two cage guards from behind. With the snicker-snack of claws and chomp of jaws, there were now two headless xottle bodies that fell limply to the ground.

Chaos reigned.  A fanged pink tidal wave of fury surged at the robot, Goiglug struggled to free the mortally wounded [he had 2 HP left] Chief Kagluushk, and Penny and Sniffles freed the captives.

On her turn, Hobodeath still stood rigid and smiling, because her REAL PLAN was about to unfold—she intended to lure all the xottles to her end of the clearing, and then activate her Killing Sphere.  (Her allies didn't know she had it, you see.)  Sniffles and Penny watched as the robot's eyes began to glow a bright, phosphorescent silver-white, and the glow radiated across the forest...

...and then there was a sudden pop, then some sparks, and then steam poured from Hobodeath's eyes.  The android went dormant, and was instantly buried beneath a horde of furious, gnashing amphibians.  Polymerized flesh, lubricants, and Hit Points geysered into the air.  [I had Hobodeath roll a Mental Attack against the collective mass, and she only needed a 6...but she rolled a 4.  Even worse, she rolled an 11 to determine how many combat rounds she'd be helpless.]

Holy crap.

Sniffles and Penny stood paralyzed as chunks of Android went flying.  But movement caught Sniffles' eyes, and he saw the shaman still struggling to free the mortally wounded chief...and a proverbial lightbulb went off over his head.  From the darkness, Sniffles stood, opened his mouth... 

...and with a flash of red, a shrieking, squirming, fiery amphibi-man soared across the clearing and out into the swamp like a burning comet.  [He rolled a natural 20!]

The xottles froze, and stopped their mangling of the robot just as the giant turtle boy lumbered into the clearing right in front of the throne.  Sniffled bellowed, pounded his chest, looked down at the equally helpless and horrified xottle king...

...and leaned in and bit off his head, Jurassic Park-style.  Sniffles then spit it, crown and all, into the boiling pot.

A hushed silence fell across the clearing, and Sniffles, Penny, and the captives prepared for battle...

...but then 25+ xottles collectively fell to their knees, and with arms stretched high, started basking and bowing in reverence, and croaked in exhaltation as one:  "ALL HAIL THE SHELLED GOD!!!  ALL HAIL THE SHELLED GOD!!!"



Sniffles was struck absolutely, positively dumb.

The seconds ticked by, and the xottles maintained their worship.  Trying to get a handle on things, Sniffles sat down on on the throne to get his bearings...and utterly smashed it beneath his girth.  The xottles rushed before him in supplication, still singing his praises.  Females began to fawn at him and dance seductively around his shins.  One infant shimmied up his shell, and latched onto his head with little suckered fingers and tentatively gurgled, "DADDY?!"

Some others dragged out a chest, which contained a sealed spindle of those silvery discs, a pile of colored plastic cards marked "Master" and "Discover", a blue plastic cube [a Firestarter Cube], and some red-tinted lenses on a strap [Infra-Red Goggles].

No one heard Dave and Steve utter, in unision, "...the hell?!"



Post-combat interaction ensued.  Hobodeath clinically (and quite robotically) wanted to eradicate the xottles ("Don't these things infest your town's lakes every spring and eat up all your fish?" ), but Sniffles explained that he knew the pain of being unwanted and alone, and there was no way he could kill the parents of the helpless little xottlings and leave them orphaned, much less outright kill the babies.  Penny decided that an alliance was in order, and did her best to explain to Grickle, the now-senior xottle, that a peace treaty was in order.  If the tribe would act as scouts and front-line guards for Gone-Woe, then the two settlements could could establish a joint trading alliance for fish, supplies, and medical aid.  The xottles enthusiastically agreed ( "Love fissssh!  LOVE FISSSSH!!!" ), and Sniffles gave Grickle one of his badges as a token of faith to seal the deal.  Penny fished the chief's crown from the pot ("It'll look great with my wigs!"), and the party and hostages returned to Gone-Woe just as dawn broke.

Upon their arrival, there was much celebration, as a search party was just about to head out to find the wayward teens.  And the Foragers were safe!  However, lecturing and haranguing by The Elders set in, but before things could get too heated, the alarm bells started ringing again...

...and all returned to the gates to see a swarm of xottles sitting outside, proudly displaying a 4' tall turtle effigy made of mud, reeds, and saliva.  They were chanting Sniffles name, and wanting their fish.

His new family had followed him home.



Epilogue #1:  Sniffles went out to the xottles, and got frustrated as he realized they really didn't seem to understand the concepts of "trade" and "alliance" and "treaty".  He tried to explain that he didn't want to be their ruler, and incinerated the sculpture in an attempt to show them they didn't need gods.  That backfired, though, and the creatures fled screaming back into the wilds.  Vexed, he sat down at the city wall, started smoking a cigar he kept hidden in his shell, and exhaustedly sighed...just as a lone female xottle cozied up to his ankle and sighed, too, while fluttering her gill-fronds ever so suggestively.



Epilogue #2:  That night, at the site of now-abandoned xottle feast, a broken, blackened figure dragged itself by one arm into the clearing.  It inched across the ground to the ruined throne, pried a leather bag from the wreckage, and pulled a plastic cylinder from within.  A switch was flipped, and from the tip of the cylinder came a narrow beam of yellowish light...which the figure held up and beneath its chin.

From between gritted fangs and cracked, blistered lips came a gurgling hiss equal parts agony and rage:  "Goiglug will have vengeance.  Oh, yessssss...GOIGLUG WILL HAVE HISSSS REVENGE!!!"




Mutant Lord's Commentary:  I have to confess that I was totally nervous about the game, as not only did I have to cobble together a scenario (and a cliched Very, Very Cliched First Adventure, at that) on the fly, but I don't think I've GM'd something that didn't involve superheroes in well over a decade.  My concerns were unfounded, as the game was an absolute scream from start to finish.

The group consisted of one experienced LARPer (Sniffles), and two newbies who only have 3 RPG sessions under their belts.  The gonzo post-apocalypse was new to all of them, but everyone seemed to have a blast as they recognized familiar modern-day environs and items (and they are anxious to figure out what the black box is).  And unbeknownst to me, Sniffles' player was/is an Eagle Scout, and actually spent summers at the very real Camp Strike Strake.

As for the climactic showdown?  It was AWESOME.  Thanks to their rather sweet (and totally random) mutations, Chief Kagluushk and Shaman Goiglug were supposed to be combat machines...but they never got a chance to actually do anything.  The party had an amazing plan, and Hobodeath's unexpected bungle—she just needed a 6!—only heightened the drama.  And no one—NO ONE—anticipated that Sniffles would end up as King Of The Swamp Gobblers (who came across in play like Spielberg's gremlins). And Goiglug getting blasted into the off-camera ether with just one lone Hit Point?  That, friends, is just pure gaming gold.  (Oh, yeah...during Goiglug's little vow, I actually held up a flashlight to my face; I had it with me for something else that didn't transpire, but it sure came in handy.)

Speaking of random—everyone seems to be enjoying how everything is ol' school haphazard.  The PCs rolled their stats randomly, I'm randomly building the monsters and corresponding treasures, and it's all working out quite peachily.

And a confession?  It wasn't until about 10pm after the game was over that I re-read the Killing Sphere description, and realized I may have made an error.  While the Mental Attack rules [on p. 47 of the Mutant Future Core Rules] state that psionic combat requires a mental test roll between the antagonists, the actual mutation description says that the Field seemingly goes off without any complications.  Everything worked out thanks solely to the players' creativity, but I would've felt terrible if my mistake had doomed them all.  (And I can't make up my mind if I want Killing Sphere to actually require a roll or not; I'm leaning towards not.)

But when all was said and done, mutants were vanquished, Ancient artifacts were plundered, and Gamera cracks flew fast and furious.  All the players said they can't wait for the next session, and I'm right there with them.  This is gonna be a hoot AND a holler!

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Mutants In The News — Nightmare Fuel Edition

I can't tell if the addition of the word "Swedish" makes the following headline more or less terrifying:

"Swedish Insect Shoots Larvae Into Victims' Eyes."

AIEEEEEEEEE.

"B" is for "Bearcuda"

Bearcuda

No. Enc.:  1d4+1 (1d8+2)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40')
      —Swim:  60' (20')
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:  5
Attacks:  4 (2 claws, 2 bites)
Damage:  1d6 / 1d6 / 1d10 / 1d10
Save:  L3
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  VII, VIII
XP:  650

Equally at home on land or submerged, bearcudas are scaly, toothy carnivores that never stray far from bodies of fresh water.  They make their lairs in burrows or underwater caves, and sometimes find their way into cavern complexes or ruins.  They stand 3'-4' at the shoulder, reach lengths between 5'-7', and weigh around 450-600 pounds.  Unlike most ursines, bearcudas have difficulty standing up on their hind legs.

Bearcudas attack with surprising speed, and are able to accelerate in short bursts, bumping their land movement rate to 180' (60') and swimming rate to 120' (30') for up to 3 consecutive rounds once per turn.  And during those 3 rounds, the creatures get a +1 To Hit bonus for each attack.

They are always encountered in familial groups (called a "battery"), consisting of pairs of mated adults and their offspring.  For every 2 adult bearcudas, there will be at least 1 cub.

Mutations:  Aberrant Form (Gills and Lungs)

Friday, May 6, 2011

Brand Names, Brand Identity

In the Mutant Future, baby-naming books have long turned to ash.  So how do proud, post-apocalyptic parents-to-be go about naming their little radioactive bundles of tentacular joy?

They dig through the rubble and ruins to find junk, artifacts, trash, and signage with the snazziest, jazziest labels and logos on them, that's how.

So here's some charts with random first and last names.  Roll away, or mix and match to taste.  Tweak the spellings as desired (and some are already altered below).



First Names
  1. Alka
  2. Amway
  3. Arby
  4. Brawndo
  5. Calgon
  6. Chee-Toh
  7. Draino
  8. Exxon
  9. Faygo
  10. Jeep
  11. Kellogg
  12. Manwich
  13. McRib
  14. Mel-O
  15. Nextel
  16. Quizno
  17. Reebok
  18. Rolex
  19. Shiner
  20. Trojan

Last Names
  1. Audi
  2. Bacardi
  3. Boy-R-D
  4. Coke
  5. Colgate
  6. Del-Monty
  7. Dentyne
  8. Fanta
  9. Funyun
  10. Google
  11. Honda
  12. Jolt
  13. Kodak
  14. Kroger
  15. Nissan
  16. Pibb
  17. Pringle
  18. Snapple
  19. Supreme
  20. Yel-O

Mush Pot
  1. Atari
  2. Avon
  3. Bose
  4. Duracell
  5. Eebay
  6. Folger
  7. Hershey
  8. I-Max
  9. I-Pod
  10. Jheri
  11. Kotex
  12. Lego
  13. Noxema
  14. Sansabelt
  15. Shasta
  16. Slimjim
  17. Twizzler
  18. Whopper
  19. Zenith
  20. Zima


You can guarantee that my players in the upcoming Don't Mess With Wrexus campaign will encounter an Exxon Honda, a Jeep Supreme, a Manwich Snapple, a Reebok Bacardi, and a Quizno Pibb, whoever they happen to be.

(Special thanks to Idiocracy.)



UPDATE:  The above lists have been expanded here.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

"S" is for "Slaguar"

Slaguar

No. Enc.:  1d4 (1d4)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  150' (50') 
Armor Class:  3
Hit Dice:  5
Attacks:  3 (2 claws, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d4+2 / 1d4+2 / 1d8+2
Save:  L5
Morale:  10
Hoard Class:  V, VII
XP:  1,100

Slaguars are 4' tall, 750-pound felines that stalk mountainous badlands and urban ruins.  Instead of conventional pelts, their bodies are coated with fine iron filaments.  White-hot molten saliva drips from their jaws.

Slaguar teeth and claws are made of piercing alloys that radiate intense heat; consequently, the beasts get +2 To Hit and +2 Damage with all melee attack rolls.  And 3 times per day, a slaguar can exhale a cone of molten metal 15' long and 10' wide at its end.  All targets successfully struck take 2d6 damage per round for 1d6+1 rounds, and they are also entombed in a metallic shell and considered Paralyzed for 1d4 turns (or until making a successful Ability Check Versus Strength, which can be made once every turn).

The beasts feed upon meat and metal, and find Androids to be particularly tasty.  As they compete for the same food sources, slaguars and chromodos are natural enemies.

Mutations:  Energy-Retaining Cell Structure (Heat), Frailty (Cold) [D], Frailty (Electricity) [D], Reflective Epidermis (Heat), Unique Mutation ("Molten Breath")

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

"S" is for "Sluggernaut"

Sluggernaut

No. Enc.:  1 (1d3)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  45' (15') 
Armor Class:  9
Hit Dice:  16
Attacks:  1 (bite or trample)
Damage:  2d12 or 4d10
Save:  L8
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  3,300

Sluggernauts are slime-dripping behemoths that reach heights over 20', lengths over 40', and weights in over 10 tons.  They favor open grasslands and expansive wetlands in order to graze on plant matter, carrion, and offal, but they sometimes slither into underground cavern complexes.

Thanks to their thick, resilient hides, sluggernauts only take half damage from conventional melee weapons and firearms.  And their four eyestalks grant 360-degree vision, meaning they're only Surprised only on a roll of 1 on 1d6. 

While relatively docile, sluggernauts bite with toothy maws or Trample with their prodigious bulk when threatened.  And warlike tribes train them for use as relentless (albiet ponderously slow) combat mounts, strapping massive howdahs—equipped with ballistae and cannons—onto their backsides.

Any given sluggernaut has a 25% chance of possessing the Dermal Poison Slime Physical Mutation, with the effect class determined at random.

Mutations:  None

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

"P" is for "Prowlasite"

Prowlasite

No. Enc.:  1d6 (2d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40') 
Armor Class:  7
Hit Dice:  2+3
Attacks:  3
Damage:  1d3 / 1d3 / 1d6 + drain
Save:  L2
Morale:  10
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  59

Slimy and pungent, the horrid prowlasites stalk swamps, forests, caves, and Ancient ruins.  They are similar in size and build to Ancient hounds, and their hairless, rubbery skin comes in a variety of unpleasant hues.  They continually make a slurping, suckling sound that is the stuff of nightmares.

Prowlasites hunt in packs, and attack by pouncing on victims with claws and razored fangs.  With a successful bite attack, a prowlasite latches onto its prey, doing automatic gnawing damage each round plus an additional 1d4 blood-drain damage until it or the victim is dead.  After feeding, all that's left of a prowlasite's meal is a mound of bones bound by loose skin.

Saliva continually drips from their maws, and contains a numbing agent so strong that anyone bitten by a prowlasite has a 20% of contracting the Pain Insensitivity Drawback.  This saliva is highly valued for medicinal purposes.

Mutations:  None



Saturday, April 30, 2011

"X" is for "Xottle"

Xottle  ("Swamp Gobbler")

No. Enc.:  1d12 (4d12)
Alignment:  Chaotic
Movement:  105' (35')
     —Swim:  90' (30')
Armor Class:  7
Hit Dice:  1
Attacks:  1 (bite, or weapon)
Damage:  1d4, or by weapon
Save:  L1
Morale:  7
Hoard Class:  II, VIII, XIII
XP:  16

Xottles are a savage race of pink, 3' tall amphibians with ravenous appetites and nasty temperaments.  They build ramshackle dwellings in wetlands and humid caves, and on the bottoms of lakes.  Xottles tend to despoil their environs with their gluttony, and having no agriculture or industry of their own, they raid the settlements of other sentients for food and supplies.

They attack with spears, tridents, clubs, and nets, and fashion traps (often poisoned) to bring down larger game.  Hunting parties wear hand-carved masks to better terrorize their foes, and such masks give Xottles +1 to their Morale, and reduce opponents' Morale by -1.

Xottle communities are ruled by the larger members of their race.  Xottle shamans have 2 HD and 1 beneficial Physical or Mental Mutation, and chieftans possess 3 HD and 1d3 beneficial Mutations.

Mutations:  Aberrant Form (Gills and Lungs)

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Don't Mess With Wrexus

I draw ever closer to starting up my Mutant Future campaign, as I now have two PCs ready to go:  Penny The Craw, and a sixteen-foot tall turtle with heat-breath and some serious health woes named Grabthar (who goes by "Sniffles").

And no campaign is complete without a map...and here it is, courtesy of the guys at Hexographer.

Welcome to Gone-Woe, Wrexus.



Danger surrounds the small town of Gone-Woe and its sister village Walled Den, home of The Craw.

To the north lies Huntsvile, a barren land overrun with machines of Living Metal that stalk and trap human and mutant alike.  What hideous fate ultimately befalls their captives...?

In the northeast, the desperate, degenerate community of Grieveland is dying.  Will the rivalry between Grieveland and Gone-Woe finally come to bloodshed...?

The broken Woe-5 road leads to The Queen's Wood, the domain of the savage and mysterious Queen and her legions.  The time draws near when she expects her annual tribute, and her ever-increasing, ever-unreasonable demands may be unattainable this year....  And not far is the blighted, twisted Fearbrook, rumored to hide a graveyard of flying machines....

Braving The Wooded Lands down The Eye-45 road and across the Sandy Jack River leads to dangers unimaginable, like Woebrook to the southwest and the frontier town-slash-fortress known as Gunspoint to the south.  Travel to Gunspoint is forbidden by The Elders of Gone-Woe, but every young mutant longs to glimpse its fabled wonders....

And beyond that last bastion of civilization lies the sprawling ruins of Hugeston...and The Firesea...and Fangleton...and Fearlake (home of the NASTAR spaceport)...and the waterlogged spires of Graveston....

Watch out, players...the eyes of Wrexus are upon you!

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

"B" is for "Brawlrus"

Brawlrus

No. Enc.:  1d2 (1d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  60' (20') 
Armor Class:  7
Hit Dice:  10+1
Attacks:  5 (4 punches, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d8 / 1d8 / 1d8 / 1d8 / 1d6
Save:  L5
Morale:  11
Hoard Class:  VIII, IX, XIII
XP:  2,400

Brawlruses are enormous beasts that reach lengths of 15' long, and weights between 3-4 tons.  They stand 6' tall at the shoulder thanks to 2 powerful, flippered "legs" used for support and locomotion, and 4 muscular arms ending in bony-spurred paws sprout from their torsos.  Highly adaptable, brawlruses can be found in any climate and terrain.  They'll eat anything within reach.

A brawlrus is direct and brutal in combat, as it unleashes a flurry of savage blows until its opponent is battered and broken.  And if at least 2 paws strike successfully in a round, the creature can squeeze for an additional 2d10 damage.  Anyone squeezed in this fashion must make a Saving Throw Versus Stun or be Stunned for 1d4 rounds afterwards.

There is anecdotal evidence that brawlruses may be evolving intelligence, as some witnesses swear they've seen the creatures plod along on wheeled platforms, propelling themselves with their flippers.  If they exist, the speed and specifications of these contraptions is unknown.

Mutations:  Aberrant Form (Multiple Limbs)



"S" is for "Scrawler"

Scrawler ("Doodlethug")

No. Enc.:  1d4 (1d12)
Alignment:  Neutral / Chaotic
Movement:  120' (40')
Armor Class:  4
Hit Dice:  7+2
Attacks:  3 (2 claws, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d6 / 1d6 / 1d8
Save:  L5
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  VIII, XVI
XP:  900

Scrawlers are man-sized, cyclopean arachnoids with thick, multihued exoskeletons.  Each is distinct in markings and coloration.  The creatures have 4 legs and 4 arms, with 2 of their upper limbs ending in unique ink-producing organs.

Ambush predators, scrawlers nest exclusively in Ancient ruins, particularly those that attract explorers and scavengers—derelict shopping centers, warehouses, factories, tractor-trailers, etc.  Using their ink-glands, they work in groups to cover their territories with glyphs that mimic Ancient iconography.  Scrawlers don't seem to comprehend what the symbols mean, yet recognize that adventurers are drawn to such images.




While scrawlers seem to indiscriminately mark their hunting grounds without a cohesive "theme", each nest apparently uses certain symbols more than others.  Perhaps that is how different groups identify themselves to their own kind.

In combat, scrawlers try to blind opponents with a conical spray of ink (15' long, 10' wide at the end) before attacking with claws and jaws.  Anyone caught within the discharged ink is Blinded for 3d4 rounds on a failed Saving Throw Versus Poison.

All attempts at communication with scrawlers have failed, and scholars debate whether the creatures are mindless drones capable only of rote mimicry, or actually sinisterly sentient.

Mutations:  Toxic Weapon ("Ink Spray")



Monday, April 25, 2011

"S" is for "Stinguin"

Stinguin

No. Enc.:  3d6 (6d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  90' (30') 
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:   2
Attacks:  2 (1 bite, 1 sting)
Damage:  1d4 / 1d6+1 + poison
Save:  L1 
Morale:  10
Hoard Class:  XI
XP:  47

Stinguins are horrid little beasts that nest in cold, dank environs—cavern complexes, abandoned sewers, subterranean ruins, etc.  They are covered with greasy feathers, and stand between 1.5'-2' tall on 8 chitinous legs.  Their long tails end in menacing barbs that inject a Class 5 poison.

When hunting or defending their lairs, stinguins swarm over foes, tearing and stabbing until the threat is killed.  They scuttle up vertical surfaces and ceilings with ease.

Their multiple compound eyes give them almost 360-degree vision, so stinguins are Surprised only on a roll of 1 on 1d6.

Mutations:  Toxic Weapon (Venom)

Friday, April 22, 2011

"S" is for "Skyder"

Skyder

No. Enc.:  0 (1d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  18' (6')
         —Fly:  75' (25')
Armor Class:  4 (9)
Hit Dice:  5
Attacks:  1d8+1 (up to 8 claws, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d4 per claw / 1d10
Save:  L3
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  650

Skyders are nightmarish, arachnoid horrors that reach lengths of 8'-10' long.  They possess the typical furry bodies, 8 limbs, and multiple eyes on their heads...but also bloated, distended abdomens filled with helium, fanged maws, and extra eyes (at least 3d6) along their underbellies.  Skyders are never Surprised.

The creatures float lazily through the air, scanning the ground for prey.  When a suitable target is located, a skyder descends and attacks in a flurry of grasping claws.   If at least 3 claws successfully hit, the skyder has grappled its prey, and can bite freely each round without the need for a To Hit roll.  It then tries to float upwards into the atmosphere to devour its victim at leisure.  One can break a skyder's grip with a successful Ability Check Versus Strength [per p. 51 of the Mutant Future Core Rules]; however, the consequential falling damage could be just as deadly as the beast's jaws.

By day, skyders are light blue with "cloud-like" markings, and such camoflage means they Surprise victims on a 1-4 on 1d6.  At night, they shift to a dark hue with light spots, allowing them to Surprise on a 1-5 on 1d6.

Skyders are ungainly and clumsy on land (primarily because they're struggling to keep from floating away), so their Armor Class becomes 9 when grounded.

Mutations:  Chameleon Epidermis (Limited), Increased Sense (Vision)




Thursday, April 21, 2011

"H" is for "Howligator"

Howligator

No. Enc.:  2d6 (3d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  180' (60')
Armor Class:  4
Hit Dice:  3+1
Attacks:  1 (bite)
Damage:  1d8
Save:  L2
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  170

Howligators are carnivorous pack hunters encountered in all but the coldest climes.  They are similar in size and build to Ancient canines, and exhibit almost identical social and predatory behaviors.

A howligator's distinctive vocalization—a gutteral, resonant bellow—makes herd animals and mounts panic.  Any such creature within a 2 mile radius of a baying howligator suffers a -2 penalty to Morale.

Howligator pups can be raised as hunting animals and guards.  That said, most howligator breeders and trainers are Mutant Humans blessed with multiple limbs and/or regeneration-based mutations, as they tend to lose many digits (or worse) in the process.

Mutations:  Increased Sense (Hearing), Increased Sense (Smell)

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

"V" is for "Vapir"

Vapir

No. Enc.:  0 (1d4)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40')
Armor Class:  4
Hit Dice:  4+2
Attacks:  1 (bite)
Damage:  1d6
Save:  L5
Morale:  6
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  440

Dwelling in forests, jungles, and swamps, vapirs are hefty browsing animals with short, prehensile snouts.  They stand around 4' tall at the shoulder, reach lengths of 6'-7', and weigh between 600-800 pounds.

Vapirs are continually blanketed by billowing green mists which cause all melee attacks directed their way to suffer a -2 To Hit penalty, and all ranged attacks to suffer a -4 To Hit penalty.  And once every 4 rounds, a vapir can exhale a cloud of gas 20' in diameter with the following random colors and effects [roll 1d6]:

1) Debilitating Gas (orange, Class 1-8 poison [determined randomly by rolling 1d8])
2) Hallucinogenic Gas (purple, causes Confusion for 1d10 rounds with failed Saving Throw Versus Poison)
3) Corrosive Gas (red, causes continual 3d4 damage per round [may optionally include damage against equipment and possessions] for 1d4+1 rounds, with no Save allowed)
4) Obscurring Gas (black, induces Blindness and loss of olfactory senses for 1d6+1 rounds with failed Saving Throw Versus Poison)
5) Narcotic Gas (blue, Class 9 Sleep poison)
6) Nerve Gas (yellow, Class 12-20 poison [determined randomly by rolling 1d8])

Effects can overlap.  Vapirs are immune to any and all effects generated by their fellows' fumes, plus all other hazardous environmental toxins or chemicals.

When a vapir is reduced to 10 or less Hit Points, it assumes a gaseous form and attempts to flee at a movement rate of 45' per round.  It is completely immune to all conventional weapons and energy attacks in this form, but is still vulnerable to wind-based attacks and Mental Mutations.  At -10 Hit Points or less, a vapir is truly dead; otherwise, it re-solidifies after 1d8 hours at full Hit Points.

A vapir's morale becomes 10 when protecting its young.

Mutations:  Aberrant Form (Gaseous Form), Toxic Weapon ("Gas Generation")




Saturday, April 16, 2011

"Y" is for "Yowli"

Yowli

No. Enc.:  1d4 (1d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  150' (50')
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:  12
Attacks:  3 or 1 (2 claws, 1 bite, or spittle)
Damage:  1d12 / 1d12 / 1d4, or 1d10
Save:  L9
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  XX
XP:  5,200

Yowlis are primitive, muscular, 11' tall humanoids that haunt mountainous peaks and frigid wastes.  While clearly avian (with feathered bodies, beaks, and oversized claws), they curiously possess mammalian sex characteristics.  They can rotate their heads almost a full 360 degrees around, and are never Surprised.

Yowlis are fierce combatants.  They are almost invisible in snowy conditions, and Surprise on a roll of 1-4 on 1d6.  Three times per day, they can screech so terrifyingly that any non-yowli within a 50' radius flees in a random direction for 3d4 rounds on a failed Saving Throw Versus Energy.  And their spittle (capable of being sprayed up to 15' away) is acidic, doing 1d10 damage on contact and an additional 1d8 damage per round for 1d6 rounds.

Their wings are non-functional, and only used in threat and mating displays.

Mutations:  Increased Sense (Vision), Reflective Epidermis (Cold), Toxic Weapon (Spittle)



Friday, April 15, 2011

"S" is for "Slaying Grantis"

Slaying Grantis

No. Enc.:  1 (1)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  150' (50')
          —Fly:  90' (30')
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:  9
Attacks:  2 (2 claws + special)
Damage:  2d6 / 2d6, + special
Save:  L5
Morale:  10
Hoard Class:  XVI
XP:  3,800

Slaying grantises are ferocious, 12' tall bipeds that stalk forests, jungles, and overgrown ruins.  Their powerful bodies are particularly freakish, as they locomote on their front, ape-like limbs, and use their forward-growing hind legs as rending talons.  Shaggy green fur covers their frames.

Patient, still, and nigh-invisible in the greenery (thereby Surprising on a 1-5 on 1d6), they can wait for hours until oblivious prey wanders into range.  And slaying grantises are as lethal as they are stealthy.  If both claws successfully strike in the same round, the target is drawn close and savagely bitten.  The victim must immediately make a Saving Throw Versus Death.  Success means that they suffer the claw damage and an extra 2d10 damage from biting...while failure indicates that its head is drawn into the slaying grantis' mouth, and bitten off.  Death is instant.  (Androids decapitated in this manner might be repairable, at the Mutant Lord's discretion.)

Slaying grantises are too heavy for sustained flight, and the creatures more accuately "flutter" than fly proper.  They can only remain airborne for a maximum of 4 rounds, and then must descend and spend at least 2 rounds grounded before taking off again.

Mutations:  Complete Wing Development (Limited), Increased Sense (Vision)

Thursday, April 14, 2011

"T" is for "'Tanteater"

'Tanteater

No. Enc.:  0 (1d2)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  45' (15')
Armor Class:  7
Hit Dice:  16
Attacks:  3 (2 claws, 1 tongue-lash)
Damage:  5d6 / 5d6 / 1d12
Save:  L7
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  4,200

'Tanteaters (shortened from mutanteater, with the accent on the second syllable) are immense, tawny beasts with bodies the size of Ancient double-decker buses (and lengths twice as long, if you include their tails).  They have insatiable appetites, and stalk the grasslands and forests of the Mutant Future hunting for their favored prey item:  Mutant Humans.

'Tanteaters can detect, within a 5 mile radius, the particular biochemical signatures that set Mutant Humans apart from the other Character Races.  Drawn to large groupings of Mutant Humans, the massive creatures simply lumber into settlements, claw their way through any barricades and walls, and proceed to lap up as many mutants as possible with their sticky, 30' long tongues.

A 'tanteater targets one victim with its tongue, and can catch up to two others (3 total) within the same 10' radius with a successful attack against each target.  Anyone successfully struck with a To Hit roll of 15 or greater is Swallowed.  Those Swallowed suffer 2d10 damage per round until dead, or the 'tanteater is killed.

'Tanteaters have no compunction against devouring the other Character Races; they just don't absorb the same nutritional value from them.

Mutations:  Gigantism, Unique Sense ("Mutanto-Sense")




Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Mo' Mutants, Mo' Problems



The "Print Friendly" button isn't working properly, as it gives random results to each entry (sometimes not showing pictures...sometimes not showing big blocks of text...and other screwy issues).

I'm leaving it up for now, as I try to get it fixed on the back end.

But if I can't get it working, I'll just remove it later.  Sorry for the hassles.

"T" is for "Trilobison"

Trilobison

No. Enc.:  0 (3d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40')
      Swim:  45' (15')
Armor Class:  2
Hit Dice:  5
Attacks:  1 (head-butt)
Damage:  1d6
Save:  L3
Morale:  7
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  650

Trilobison (both singular and plural) are squat, low-slung, bulky beasts covered in chitinous carapaces.  They only reach between 3'-4' tall at the tops of their backsides, but stretch to lengths anywhere between 10'-15'.  Trilobison herds congregate near fresh water and mudholes to graze and wallow, and they are equally at home above or below the surface.

Normally docile, trilobison Charge when provoked, or when protecting young; however, their distinctive horns curl backwards, and are useless for goring attacks.

Many riverside and aquatic communities depend on domesticated trilobison for survival, as the creatures provide meat, milk, eggs, hides (for armor), horns (for weapons), and dung (for fertilizer).  Trilobison are also used as beasts of burden and combat mounts.

Mutations:  Aberrant Form (Gills and Lungs), Natural Armor (Extreme) (x2)

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

'The Mutant Epoch' Non-Review (or, "Pincers: The Pinchening")





That I loves me some post-apocalyptic gaming is an understatement, and this blog is a testament to my sensibilities:  Gamma World, Mutant Future, Damnation Decade, and Superhero League Of Hoboken are the bee's knees, while the likes of Twilight: 2000, Darwin's World, and Fallout generally leave me cold.  (I adored the Roadwar 2000 and Wasteland games on my Apple IIe, though.  Go figure.)

Basicially, if I can't roll up a lightning-breathing bat-man with quills and narcolepsy, or if the world isn't sufficiently wonky, then I'm not all that interested.

That brings us to William McAusland's / Outland Arts' new rpg, The Mutant Epoch.  I've been excited for this one, as it seems to combine what I love with plenty of grim-n-gritty for the kiddies.

My copy arrived Saturday, and I've poured over it the last few days.  But I'm not ready to write a formal review (if I'll ever be); no, this post just collects my gut impressions about the book.

--

Random Thoughts and Ponderings

) Mr. McAusland draws like a sunnuvabitch.  Are there any pictures he didn't do?

) The work's overall vibe, thanks to the art and "chart-iness" of the rules, made me nostalgic.  I felt like I was reading one of my beloved games from my late teen years, like GDW's Dark Conspiracy.  No, waitStellar Games' Nightlife...yeah, that's the one.  This is a good thing.

) Now that's what I call mutation lists...however...

) ...spiked pincers seem so ubiquitous, those without are the REAL freaks.

) The bestiary absolutely, positively rocks.  And if I may be so arrogant, some of them (like the land pikes and wolf frogs) are critters that I'd design for this very blog...except mine would come out kinda adorable, while Mr. McAusland's are terrifying.

) d1000 rolls?!  Holy crap.  Colonel Lou, I need your dice more than ever!

) I can't let The Wife know about the Slave, Whore caste-class, because she'll want to scrap Penelope the mutant crawdad and play this game instead.  Or she'll make Penny change professions.... *shudder*.

) The picture corresponding to the Grapple skill made me guffaw, as it looks obscene but actually isn't (I blame its placement across from the Erotic Arts skill more than anything).  I'm suitably embarrassed.

) Every game—no matter what genre—I referee from this moment forth will have a treasure table listing a dead rat, saved for dinner and shrunken head, worth 2d8sp.

) Build-Your-Own-Dice in the back, behind the graph- AND hex-paper?!  Sweet.

) I think know I'll buy everything Outland Arts puts out for this game.

--

I hope my enthusiasm for the book shows.  I freely admit I'm intimidated by the system (and, really, I'll probably end up just stripmining stuff for Mutant Future), but I'm randomly rolling up a character now...

...who's gonna be a Bestial Human Bobcat.  I'm smiling here.

PS:  The website has a "Kids Corner" with a mutant coloring book.  Outstanding.

--

More to follow.