Series Posts

The Spectral Frequency

XIX

Organic life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. There’s danger, there’s food needs, there’s weather, there’s, well there’s a lot. But here? On the other side of the glass? No, it’s safe. Just the warm glow to keep my hearty and healthy. Look at these cheeks? Perfect and ready to go on air. Wouldn’t trade it back for a second. Yeah, I know I only see you lot and maybe a few dozen others who can see what I really am, but I’m fine.

Really.

They might have had a life before their airwave conversion, but they don’t want to talk about it. They’re happy now, that’s the point. Sure, the shows they step into treat them like guest stars, but they’re mostly a wanderer, exploring the various airwaves of television, radio, and beyond once the world starts dabbling into more varied way of showing media. And they like it this way, a digital wayfarer, adrift on the Television dream.

The Spectral Light can glean information from any screen, scope, or viewer that can see the magical world of television. While they spend time as a tourist in the realm of visual fantasy, they still care about what’s going on out there, as that often informs what goes on inside of the realms. They’ll want to communicate to willing friends, especially if the viewer has some good show ideas.

In modern sci-fi, they’re the digital dreamer, Mike Teavee with a bit of influence, whimsey, and odd powers in their shows.

In the far future they’re the living hologram, a specter of the virtual dancing through the world. Here they can manifest, create light illusions, and participate in both realms.

In fantasy, they’re the dream talker, slipping into the imaginations of slumber and seeing what others yearn for.

A voice calls out from the snow of a dead channel. It seeks more than mere witness. Like a performer at the globe, audience participation is not only desired, it’s required.

The Maintenance Crew

XVIII

The enforcer swung at the door again, his fulgur club bursting into arcs of electricity. The lock began to buckle under the onslaught, but then warning chimes went off through the hall. The party moved closer together, facing out to deal with whatever oncoming threat would lash out against them. They saw movements near the ceiling, dozens of little spade shaped creatures poured from crevices. The telekinetic started prepping a mind blast while the enforcer readied another charge in his club. The swarm swept along the walls and surrounded them, before flowing towards the battered barrier. It was the system breaker that halted them when she let out a warning. “It’s not us they’re after,” she said. “It’s the door.” They moved like a kaleidoscope, as the drones fell into odd patterns over the broken latch. Small flakes of material swept from mini-limb to mini-limb until the old piece had been completely torn out and replaced.  The enforced grumbled while the other two watched in awe as the machines worked. Another set of chimes and they dispersed, except for a larger diamond shaped machine that waddled towards them. It held something small, fluttering, that turned out to be a leaflet. It dropped it in front of the party and with a small motion, the telekinetic lifted the sheet before them.

“A bill for damages?” They said in unison. The party looked up at the new lock, shiny, perfect, and open. It was repaired, but not reset. The door hung ajar, ready for them to pass through.

The Maintenance Crew is an annoyance to a party. Whether on space stations, high tech facilities, or luxury living zones, the swarm is a cluster of machines that want to keep things in top shape. They don’t care if the party is there. That’s another system’s problem. But they do care if the party breaks things in the care of the swarm. The crew will watch from a distance, observe any disturbances, announce their presence, and then fix what’s been smashed.

Their behavior is meant to be predictable, as that lies in the heart of manipulating them. As drones they can’t help but keep things clean. They are hyper focused on the task even if it means breaking other protocols. Their job is to fix, not security. Not reporting intruders. Fix.

In sci-fi they’re a swarm of creatures resembling mechanical insects. They beep and chirp and make loud modem noises at the party as they bumble their way through the facility.

In fantasy they’re a swarm of dust motes, moving about an ancient shrine repairing old statues and keeping the torches lit in ancient crypts.

In cyberpunk, they’re a swarm of human faced birds that sweep across digital realms searching out different types of data and keeping a network “clean.”

The swarm is here to do a job, and the characters are the ones in the way. Fix, clean, move on. Let the other systems deal with the problems about intruders.

The Door Keeper

XVII

The passageway should be right here, the map shows it. The wall is even framed with that curled golden lace and ancient script guiding the way. But the insert archway has a solid wall of ancient dust covered brick blocking advancement. Frustrated, the party turns to the guide, and made demands. Xe had been waiting for them to get out of the way and at last, now without them bumbling about xe can. It takes a few tries, but xe finally grabs hold of the passageway that would lead out of the temple. Holding the detached entrance is like staring at a very high-resolution screen, although a bit nauseating at it shows off bits of the foundation and a peek at the floor below the room until at last, the guide slams it into place into the once blocked passage.

Xe smiled at the slacked jawed party and asks if they’d like to proceed to the next chamber through the now open gateway.

Xe is patient and observant, watching xir comrades work their way through their experiences rather than interjecting xir views wontly. The door keeper is a master of Janusian magic, an art of passages, chrono-manipulation, and changes of state, and one which allows xir to shift and change reality to let things flow forward in time. This is reflected in how they deal with others, helping them to change and grow, and move forward in their growth but to do so in the natural progression rather than hastening them through time.

As a guide, the Door Keeper is an enigmatic figure. Xir mastery of doorways and the connection of states of existence serves as the basis of the experience and puzzle with her visitation to a campaign. The door keeper’s first actions are two-fold. First, it should teach the party how to move the doors. Second, it should trap them in the dungeon until they figure it out. Such an encounter should include time locked events that, when triggered properly, will allow the party to move forward to their eventual reward. But the flow of time should always keep moving forward. Time should be manipulated, not broken.

The door keeper’s goal is one of exploration and assisting with unravelling the things that keep the world halted. Xe is drawn to aid those stuck in metaphorical mud, and will gladly be attracted to a mystery in need of unravelling. Xe fears regression, and the loss of hard-fought victories due to stagnation and apathy.

In fantasy, xe is the keep of Janusian magic, a priest of the moving temple. They will use their own quest to aid the growth and change of others.

In sci-fi, xir will is that of the portal master, and seeks to untether a time locked star and free the planets within the frozen system.

In ages of legend, xe is a parrel to Janus, a god of change and passages. Their role is to open a way for ancient heroes to move forward in service to the gods.

Many routes but all take wisdom to discover. Time moves ever forward, and with words and deeds the Keeper will aid those who seek out xir guidance.

The Living Blockade

XVI

The rumbling rattles the walls again. Someone yelps as the surface they leaned against slides away, revealing a passage to the next room, and a surprised fanged and clawed thing. The creature coils itself to leap at the party when the wall bends in towards it, snapping it up in a maw of brick and mortar. The party pulls back, suddenly aware of the different sections of the chamber’s edge that are moving as the stonework thing drags its meal away. Another deep rumble, and then the next surprise lands in the party’s lap.

The wall apologies.

It is a hunter of dark places. Serpent like, long, flat, and camouflaged. The Living Blockade grows in dark places like crypts, cellars, dungeons, burial chambers, any place where it can grow to resemble masonry or carved earth. Any place where dark things congregate under the earth. This one has grown quite large, enough that it has made this once open dungeon a labyrinth of isolated rooms. And navigating this place is going to take delicate negotiation with the creature that is the walls.

The Living Blockade is a sentient creature, and while its own survival is paramount, it is not without compassion and understanding the wants and needs of others. It seeks food and the lure of creatures to its dungeonesque web. Killing commoners and adventurers? This draws trouble and not more food. Beyond that, some may seek to propagate their species, although rare as it brings competition. For a promise of bringing their young far, far away from their parental creature the blockade may aid parties to their chosen path within their hunting grounds.

In fantasy, they’re a living snake of stone and earth that has made the walls of this crypt their home, their shell, and their hunting ground.

In deep space, they’re a station that has gain contro l of their own vast body and may manipulate parties to help with some function or antagonist deep within their hull.

In ages of legend, they’re the great hive of stone that has taken over the city’s sewers and hunts the dark places while the world above slumbers.

A place as an ally or a foe. A creature so vast yet hidden. The Living Blockade is a puzzle NPC whose mood shifts as the party slides through their territory. A thing’s whose hunger will overcome all other desires, whose maw is getting ever closer.