Your light is on, your bed is warmed, and your grace is now a-resting. The half-naked body you call yourself is currently being controlled by baser urges: the turned-on light illuminates a certain magazine you are enjoying, the heated bed comforts the subject (you) that lies down upon it, the resting grace remains rested (nay, more than that: your grace currently rests her eyes upon darkness, as she is covering them); and now, now you find yourself being overcome. Your hand reaches out, then reaches in....
But something suddenly stops you. You don't know what it is. No, it is not that muscle you strained in class this morning, as that little pain was mild enough to have fully disappeared. Neither is it your parents, whom you could still hear snoring in the neighboring room. And it is definitely not one of those odd moments of anti-sexual lucidity: your mind, you think, is yet to be derailed. It's not something you can just explain away.
You stand up, and your grace un-blinds herself. Your pants are resting on the chair nearby: after reconquering your consciousness, you stand up and zip them snugly about your legs. A deep inhalation of the cool autumn air gives clarity to the second attack. That something....it's a sound.
Every evening, the stage that is your room has its curtains drawn, and so you have to spend a few moments revealing it to be able to investigate your first suspect. No, the city outside, though still breathing with car-smoke and man-dust, is not the culprit, as nothing strange seems to be going on. You approach your pc next. The monitor is still pitch black, and nothing is coming out of its CPU. Next, you press your right ear against your walls. Silence for all sides.
The lack of snoring on the fourth side intrigues you. You're not quite sure, however, of whether you should be annoyed, indifferent, or afraid. Perhaps your parents just skipped a beat, or were somewhat awakened. You press your ear upon that wall once again, this time for a whole two minutes. The boredom born of the absolute silence almost breaks your concentration; almost, as you surely deduce that they are now soundly sleeping–yet another oddity necessitating investigation.
Once again, the keys you kept hidden in your underwear drawer prove useful. The door to your parents' room is locked, for reasons that you suspect were related to the faint moaning of 9 pm. But alas, the quest for answers often brings people to the heart of darkness (or their conception). The pleasure you felt while being in heat has now fully subsided.
As one of your keys slowly penetrates the doorknobs keyhole, the sound hits you once again. This time, it's clearer, sounding less like a "sound" and more like an actual....something. The sound can be distinctly divided into 'syllables' now, although what those 'syllables' exactly are, and whatever they're trying to convey, is still a mystery. You remember that tabloid article you read about braces intercepting radio signals.
The sound is succeeded by a loud bang on the door. You drop your keys in surprise.
A shrill aria of ice then pierces your ears as your mother screams for her life. Surprise turns to horror, and you quickly scramble to unlock the door. You bend down–another bang on the door–you pick up your keys–another scream from your mother–you pick out the key for the master bedroom–the next bang is accompanied by a cracking sound–you pause. Your hurrying heart finds respite in the silence; everything else finds tension.
Then the sound is heard again. It is now clear enough to be at the very least comprehended. What is being transmitted to you, you suppose, is some sort of announcement; however, the language it is in, and even the syllables it is composed of, are wholly alien to you. The announcement slowly dies away, and your ears return to rest.
You rush to your room, grab your phone, and call 911.
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn
But something suddenly stops you. You don't know what it is. No, it is not that muscle you strained in class this morning, as that little pain was mild enough to have fully disappeared. Neither is it your parents, whom you could still hear snoring in the neighboring room. And it is definitely not one of those odd moments of anti-sexual lucidity: your mind, you think, is yet to be derailed. It's not something you can just explain away.
You stand up, and your grace un-blinds herself. Your pants are resting on the chair nearby: after reconquering your consciousness, you stand up and zip them snugly about your legs. A deep inhalation of the cool autumn air gives clarity to the second attack. That something....it's a sound.
Every evening, the stage that is your room has its curtains drawn, and so you have to spend a few moments revealing it to be able to investigate your first suspect. No, the city outside, though still breathing with car-smoke and man-dust, is not the culprit, as nothing strange seems to be going on. You approach your pc next. The monitor is still pitch black, and nothing is coming out of its CPU. Next, you press your right ear against your walls. Silence for all sides.
The lack of snoring on the fourth side intrigues you. You're not quite sure, however, of whether you should be annoyed, indifferent, or afraid. Perhaps your parents just skipped a beat, or were somewhat awakened. You press your ear upon that wall once again, this time for a whole two minutes. The boredom born of the absolute silence almost breaks your concentration; almost, as you surely deduce that they are now soundly sleeping–yet another oddity necessitating investigation.
Once again, the keys you kept hidden in your underwear drawer prove useful. The door to your parents' room is locked, for reasons that you suspect were related to the faint moaning of 9 pm. But alas, the quest for answers often brings people to the heart of darkness (or their conception). The pleasure you felt while being in heat has now fully subsided.
As one of your keys slowly penetrates the doorknobs keyhole, the sound hits you once again. This time, it's clearer, sounding less like a "sound" and more like an actual....something. The sound can be distinctly divided into 'syllables' now, although what those 'syllables' exactly are, and whatever they're trying to convey, is still a mystery. You remember that tabloid article you read about braces intercepting radio signals.
The sound is succeeded by a loud bang on the door. You drop your keys in surprise.
A shrill aria of ice then pierces your ears as your mother screams for her life. Surprise turns to horror, and you quickly scramble to unlock the door. You bend down–another bang on the door–you pick up your keys–another scream from your mother–you pick out the key for the master bedroom–the next bang is accompanied by a cracking sound–you pause. Your hurrying heart finds respite in the silence; everything else finds tension.
Then the sound is heard again. It is now clear enough to be at the very least comprehended. What is being transmitted to you, you suppose, is some sort of announcement; however, the language it is in, and even the syllables it is composed of, are wholly alien to you. The announcement slowly dies away, and your ears return to rest.
You rush to your room, grab your phone, and call 911.
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn
A series of gruesome murders (of a supposedly supernatural nature) have taken place in your hometown. You needn't investigate what the cause of these murders is; you never really lost someone, and you're not actual officers of the law. However, by some unusual aspect of your nature, or by the effects of some unnerving circumstance, you find yourselves compelled to do so, and it is by this compulsion that you shall be forced into the heart of darkness. Will you survive this journey with both body and mind intact, or will you lose yourself in....
The Call of Cthulhu
Character Sheet
Name - ....
General Description - This includes your character's age, gender, appearance, and a few bits on his background and personality.
High Concept - This is the very idea of your character: a statement that sums up who and what your character is, eg the character's job, primary sense of being, or ultimate lot in life. Try to make this as something that both aids and ails your character.
Trouble - This is your character's biggest problem in life, that great something that complicates who and what he is as a whole. This is meant to be one of the greater obstacles to your character in the story.
Special Something - This is something (whether this is an object, a character trait, or a personal connection is up to you) that may aid or ail your character in a significant way throughout the adventure. Try detaching this from your High Concept and Trouble.
Motivation - Why exactly is your character getting caught up in all of this? And again, your character may not be motivated because he is a police officer, or he lost someone to the murders. Again, try detaching this from both your High Concept and your Trouble (Addendum: although this time the detachment isn't as necessary)
Skills - These are about three to six things your character is especially good at.
Weaknesses - These are about three to six things your character is especially bad at.
Constitution - How strong and resilient is your character in terms of his physique?
Sanity - How mentally stable is your character?
The Rules
- Again, you are not a cop, and you did not lose anyone to the killings. You're caught up in all of this because of other reasons. (Addendum: By 'you did not lose anyone to the killings', I meant that you didn't lose anyone close to you, like, say, a parent or a lover, or that you weren't a direct witness to any of the killings. You may still, however, be motivated by some sort of moral obligation, or perhaps by a call to help of someone [that could be close to you] that, well, lost someone directly)
- And you may also not be aligned with any Cthulhu cult. You may, however, be already familiar with the Old Ones and their cults.
- Change the description of your character's Sanity and Constitution as the story progresses. If he goes totally bonkers, or if he loses, say, a leg, then say so.
- Don't expect lore-perfection: this game may end up taking a lot of liberties with the Cthulhu Mythos.
- The setting is an unnamed, contemporary, Mid-Atlantic American region, with a mostly urban focus. Try to keep it that way.
- The story shall be divided into chapters. After each chapter, your character may change (subtly) anyone of his descriptors except for his Name and High Concept.
- Fantasy elements such as magic will be greatly downplayed. Outside of evil cults and psychological imbalances, the horrors of this rp should be subtle.
- Speaking of subtlety, action in general shall also be downplayed, except, perhaps, for each chapter's climax.
- You must post at least once a week, or else I will take over your character.
- Other rules and details on the setting will be released as the story progresses.
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