Wushu Skidoo

Then, they had their little bonfire. You know how they say, "Don't drink the Kool-Aid?" Well, there's really no way around it. Besides, you can tell when they're about to go all Jonestown on you, and this wasn't that. No, this was something else entirely.

They started passing around a "peace pipe" full of God knows what. I wish I could pass this all off as an hallucination, but I don't think I was high. Then, the music started. I don't know how long it was before the lights began to appear, but they'd had enough time to whip themselves into one hell of a frenzy. I felt like I was back in Haiti.

At first, I thought it was a butterfly, but it was way too big to be real. It kind of faded in like when you turn up the light behind a one-way mirror. It had these long ribbons that fluttered out in every direction. Kinda serene, really, until it started taking people. The cultists welcomed it; they offered themselves to it and it took them. It wrapped its ribbons around them and sucked them up like Jello through a straw, and all it left behind was bone and gore.

-- DTRA Agent Donald Jergens, excerpted from his debriefing.

This is the first of two articles that will prepare you for an October full of Halloween pick-up games. It blends H.P. Lovecraft's "From Beyond" with the conspiracy lore of the Philadelphia Experiment. (Apparently, Pagan Publishing cooked up something similar in 2000, but I believe this takes it in a different direction.) Make sure you read all the way through, because I've appended some genre advice in the form of A (Brief) Wushu Guide to Spook-Fu.

Project Rainbow

Electromagnetism is responsible for most of our daily interactions with the universe. It prevents objects from passing through each other despite the fact that matter is composed primarily of empty space. It propagates the radiation that heats us and allows us to see. It produces the chemical reactions upon which all life is built. Ben Franklin's kite was just the tip of the iceberg.

What would happen if you could take that all away, sever an object's electromagnetic moorings? Answering that question is what drove four decades of bizarre experiments at the Office of Naval Research. Conspiracy theorists trace it back t the U.S.S. Eldridge, but they're about a stone's throw from the truth. Docked alongside the Eldridge in 1943 was the Ergstrom, a ship that had been "degaussed" to make it invisible to magnetic mines. That was a common practice during WWII, but it eventually lead the American military to far stranger things.

They called it a "slip field." It was meant to make objects invisible, but the first test exceeded all expectations. The prototype vanished in a rainbow flash, then rematerialized inside a wall two floors below. The resulting explosion destroyed the prototype, but the experiment revealed two things: 1) slip fields produce intangibility, as well as invisibility, and 2) things in a slip field are still affected by gravity. No one knew how profound those truths would turn out to be.

During the Cold War, the Office of Naval Research couldn't stop throwing money at Project Rainbow. They built several slip field weapons and a manned vehicle. The Gauss Cannon suppresses electromagnetic fields, which has the side-effect of reducing the melting/boiling point of substances. (The kinetic energy of heat is normally counter-balanced by electromagnetic attraction.) Flesh boils, metal turns to magma, and so forth. It's a powerful weapon, but it takes a few minutes to charge up. Slipguns use optical range-finders and a slip field to make bullets immaterial... just until they're embedded inside a target. When the slip field collapses, the bullet rematerializes. Atomic fusion then produces a very large bang.

The real breakthrough, however, was the Aethership. It may have been little more than a steel drum with a slip field faraday cage and a couple of oxygen tanks, but it lead to a discovery that changed the project’s course forever. The aethership’s slip field was modified to “push” against external magnetic fields in order to provide propulsion, but test pilots had a hard time keeping the ship on a straight trajectory. It was almost as if it were bumping up against… things out there in the aether.

The implications sent researchers off in strange, new directions. They unearthed a series of patents filed by Crawford Tillinghast in the 1920’s. Based on his work, Project Rainbow produced a device that was half science and half alchemy: the Tillinghast Lantern. No one’s entirely sure how it works, but the leading theory is that it causes a normally inert form of matter to emit visible light. This inert matter is electromagnetically neutral, so it does not interact with normal matter, though it does have considerable mass. In fact, it may be the infamous “dark matter" that astrophysicists dream about.

The lantern’s violet glow illuminates an alien world that has drifted alongside our own since the beginning of time. This world is like the ocean depths: fluid, lightless, and teeming with life. Delicate, jellyfish-like creatures float through the thin aether near the Earth’s surface. Dozens of them swim through your body every day.

Ascended Masters

In the 70’s, a few of the project’s scientists followed Tillinghast into the occult world of internal alchemy. They believed they had found a way to achieve immortality by “transcending” the flesh. The procedure involved long-term exposure to lantern radiation and ingestion of the strange alloys that make them work.
By the end of the decade, most of these crackpots had abandoned their jobs and retreated to isolated laboratories. Though they had all vanished within a few years, many left behind cults of fanatical disciples who want to follow in their footsteps. They believe that their "Ascended Masters" now watch over them from the astral plane.

The truth of the matter is a bit more complicated. The alchemical treatments cause organic tissue to interact with dark matter. Accumulation over time makes the subject gain considerable weight without any visible cause. Eventually, the dark matter self-organizes into into an organism that is symbiotically attached to the alchemist. Because they can direct the movements of this “astral body,” subjects believe it to be an extension of their material one. This is an unfortunate misunderstanding.

Just as the alchemist has become partially aetherial, the symbiote is partially material. Its long, slender tendrils can induce or inhibit electrical currents and magnetic fields. They can wrap around a person or animal and cause violent seizures. Once they have gained enough mass, they can even hit material objects with physical force, enough to break down doors or knock enemies across a room. If the victim has spent significant time in lantern light, the effects are even stronger.

Symbiotes can speed up their growth by consuming other "aetherlings." The bigger the prey, the faster the process. Whether it takes years or months, it always ends in one of two ways: The lucky ones are simply torn apart atom-by-atom. From an observer’s perspective, the alchemist begins to glow with violet light. Soon, it pours from their eyes and explodes from their fingertips. Their skin starts to crack all over. Then, suddenly, they vanish in a blinding flash. The symbiote is now free of its material anchor and the alchemist is dead.

The unlucky ones are devoured by creatures far more terrifying than themselves.

The Lighthouse

1980 – The Air Force closes Camp Hero on Long Island, New York. A ground radar team continues to operate at the site for four years, or so the story goes. During this brief period, Camp Hero was actually the site of Project Rainbow’s greatest folly: the Lighthouse.

The massive radar facility at Camp Hero made an idea housing for what would become the largest Tillinghast Lantern ever built. By 1982, it was causing “ghost lights” and UFO sightings up and down the coast. By 1984, it was abandoned. Most of the staff were sent to psychiatric facilities. Several are listed as missing persons, despite the fact that their mutilated bodies were quietly removed from the site shortly before is closure.

It was well known that the otherwise insensate aetherlings were drawn to lantern light; the longer a lantern stayed on, the thicker their swarms became. Previous experiments had been terminated because researchers could no longer see through the spectral haze of jellyfish swimming through their eyes.

The sheer size of the Lighthouse’s Tillinghast field attracted thousands of aetherlings, but they were merely bait. The things that feed on them were the real object of study. Using a paste derived from some of Tillinghast’s alchemical formulae, researchers trapped these creatures in physical casts, many of which still lie in the tunnels beneath Camp Hero. It’s doubtful, though not impossible, that any of the aetherlings survived the process.

The most common specimen was a pack-hunter dubbed “the behemoth.” Eight feet of fins, spines, and wicked teeth, they most resemble deep ocean anglerfish. They work in teams of 3-12, herding aetherlings into each other’s jaws with blitzkrieg attacks. Facility workers who spent too much time in the light sometimes reported feeling like they were being followed home. Two later died under mysterious circumstances.

Second to emerge from the depths was a serpentine monstrosity called “Leviathan.” Its sinuous body stretches nearly 500 yards and its eyeless head is filled with stalactite fangs. It swallows entire swarms of aetherlings whole, leading many to speculate that the teeth are used to rend and tear larger prey.

The final beast in Project Rainbow’s menagerie was observed only once, and only partially, for even the Lighthouse’s vast reach could not encompass it. In fevered interviews with government therapists, several witnesses referred to it as “the kraken.” Their descriptions mention little besides tentacles, teeth, and fear.

After the kraken encounter, all documented evidence of this black bag operation was destroyed by the Air Force and the Office of Naval Research. The facility was hastily handed over to the General Services Administration and, eventually, quarantined due to “environmental contamination.” That was the end of Project Rainbow.

Almost.

Pick Me Ups

1. The GSA has no idea what kind of mess they’ve inherited, so they hired some specialists to take inventory. (I recommend a physicist, an engineer, and a biochemist.) As they explore Camp Hero’s assorted buildings, they uncover prototype Gauss cannons, slipguns, Tillinghast lanterns, and large collections of plaster jellyfish. You'll want to cap off these exploratory scenes with either the discovery the plaster Leviathan or the activation of the Lighthouse, whichever will freak your players the furthest out.

Then, a truck full of cultists posing as ONR goons storm the place, claiming that the equipment is still naval property. Eventually, the PCs will unmask them and violence shall ensue. Afterwards, their Master takes matters into his own hands. He thinks he can use the Lighthouse to Ascend by attracting the kraken… and consuming it.

2. During the final days of the Cold War, the Russians developed an aethership of their own. The Alklha patrolled major U.S. cities like a nuclear sub, ready to materialize and unleash Hell at a moment's notice. However, The Alklha never returned from its maiden voyage and the entire project was abandoned. Now, the Defense Threat Reduction Agency has been tasked with finding and neutralizing it.

Somewhere between Phoenix and Salt Lake City, the Russians ran afoul of an Ascended Master. It murdered the crew and kept The Alklha for itself. Its cultists have built a compound around the place where The Alklha is moored. To recover it, the PCs will have to infiltrate the cult, sweep the area with Tillinghast lanterns (the aether around there is not a happy place!), and set up specialized equipment to disrupt the ship’s slip field. Once it’s materialized, they’ll have to break in and disarm whatever weapons are onboard. All this while the cultists and their Master set upon them like rabid dogs. Oh, and did I mention that The Alklha is nuclear? I believe I did.

Addendum: A Wushu Guide to Spook-Fu

Action and horror are built upon mutually exclusive philosophies. Action games need protagonists who are at least as powerful as their average opposition, whereas horror requires protagonists who are less powerful than the things that torment them. Less power equals more terror. The secret to using Wushu’s player-empowering mechanics to run a horror game is, as always, in the Details.

Generally speaking, horror Details will come in two flavors. The first is cinematic: descriptions of deep shadows and flickering lights, decrepit environments, ambient sounds, and all the other things that film makers use to build atmosphere in horror movies. (Cheap tricks are also good, like cats jumping out of closets.) The second flavor is self-injurious: players get to describe their characters’ ineffective struggling against monstrous foes, the resulting wounds, and their inevitable descent into madness. The ability to gain mechanical bonuses for describing things that are bad for your character is one of Wushu’s best tricks.

Another issue with horror games is that they are often focused on research and exploration. You want to keep your players in suspense, so you can’t very well tell them what’s lurking in the basement before they meet it face to face. How, then, are they supposed to narrate the scene? As a GM, you can deal with this the same way you’d model an Old West shootout: by focusing the mechanics on the build-up and treating the big reveal as either a Coup de Grace or a new conflict.

For example, say the PCs have just started exploring the tunnels beneath Camp Hero. Set a Threat level, just as if it were a mook fight, and ask your players to describe their search using whatever mood-enhancing Details they like. My group invented rooms that looked like meat lockers, aquariums filled with marine specimens, a flooded tunnel, and a computer room that had been overgrown with coral. Roll dice as normal and, once the Threat hits zero, bring them face to face with whatever you want them to find down there. (I recommend the plaster Leviathan.)

The same technique works for research scenes, like when a PC wants to figure out how the Gauss cannon works. Just set a Threat level and ask for a “science-y” montage. You’ve seen them a thousand times: goggles and lab coats, high-tech instruments, work tables strewn with disassembled parts, beakers with colored liquids, maybe some 80's pop rock. Watch about ten minutes of CSI and you’ll be ready to go. When the Threat hits zero, answer their questions.

One more thing: don’t refresh Chi very often. I made my players buy back their Chi by taking new Weaknesses, and I gave them back one less token each time. That was my attempt to model the bullet train to stark raving madness. It worked pretty well, but I’m sure you can achieve the same effect with willing players and the standard rules.

Keep these things in mind while you’re reading next month’s article, too.

Next Up: A Halloween setting for fear, magic, and mass hysteria!