Classes and Cthulhu: Redux

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The world slowly approaches the end of the age of Man. The Stars will soon be right. Things stir and wriggle to life in the dark corners of the world. The return of ancient nightmares grows ever closer. Science and reason will not hold back the dark. It is inevitable.

Meanwhile, a student at the Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts awakens to find their memories stolen, and a hole in their head.

All of this is really going to make it hard to pass Midterms.
Opening Post/Character Creation

Frostbyght

Not Dead Yet
Pronouns
He/Him
"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents... some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new Dark Age." - HP Lovecraft

The Modern Age has come. Science and reason illuminate the shadowed corners of the world. From the shores of Antarctica to the deep reaches of the Amazon, even to the vast void beyond their own precious sphere, mankind takes its cautious first steps. The common man dreams of a future without fear. A future without doubt. A future of mankind ascendant. The foolish and the wise gather across the world, proclaiming the victory of understanding and knowledge.

They are wrong.

The age of Man is coming to an end. Unseen powers writhe in the shadows of the world. Nightmares from eons long past awaken once again. Cults and sorcerers ply their trade, serving masters they will never understand.

It is said, amongst those who have delved the deepest into the occult, that the world is changing. Secrets and prophecies long forgotten are unburied. Things that should not be are coming true. Across the world the madman and the seer dream of cities rising from the depths. They dream of worms at the core of the world. They dream of the vastness of the universe and the things that lie in the shadows between suns. They awake, and speak the truth none wish to hear:

The Stars will soon be right.

You, however, do not know this. Not yet.

You are dreaming of peaceful things. Of meadows and clouds and books and pleasant memories and a thousand other things. Your dreams, however, are interrupted.

Something has pulled them out of you.

PROLOGUE: THE HOLE IN YOUR HEAD

You awake to find that there is a hole in your head.

This is both artistically figurative, and bloodily literal.

You stumble out of bed and knock a lamp off a nearby table. A hand - yours, thankfully - raises up to touch at the pain in your temple and comes away warm and sticky with half-dried blood. The room swims around you and humid sickness threatens to overtake your body. The other hand reaches for stability, grasping at a bookshelf as you founder forwards. Volumes thud onto the floor as you blindly claw for leverage. A chair tips over. There is a door ahead of you, ajar enough that you can see porcelain tiling. A bathroom that greets you with a soothing chill as a breeze blows in from an open window. Moonlight casts dark shadows around the room as your hands rest on the counter, marking it with blood. Gasping, you force back a retch and look into the mirror above the sink.

The mirror only confirms what you realized before. There is a literal hole in your head. Above the left temple. Smaller than a penny. It is still bleeding, and from the stain across your face it has been for a while. The blood is drying and clotting but the work is not yet done. You grab for a towel and press it to the wound, wincing as you feel the pressure against your skull. The mix of the pain in your head, the smell of fresh blood slinking its way into your nostrils, and the warmth dripping down your cheek curdles your stomach. You choke back another heave and force yourself to breathe. To stop.

For a moment, you simply stand still. The sharp pain in your head begins to slow into an aching throb. You take that to be a good sign. Probably. Your attention shifts from the literal hole in your head to the figurative one.

You can't remember where you are. Or what you're doing here. Or, most disconcertingly, your own name. The face in the mirror is your own; you are sure of this. You recognize it, even though it is half covered in blood. The rest is buried beneath shock, confusion, and pain. It is gone.

No. Surely not gone. Your name is here. Isn't it?

Isn't it?
[] Your Name (Write in)


There, that's better.

You no longer feel like vomiting, and the pain in your skull has begun to subside. Pulling the towel away you can see the blood spread across monogrammed lettering: MU. The pounding in your head disgorges two words: Miskatonic University.

You are a student. A scholar. This fact arrives with certainty. What - exactly - you are a student of has yet to reveal itself. Perhaps in time.

There are other things to focus on.

The room behind you (your room?) is a mess of toppled furniture and scattered books. Your face and hair and clothes are a mess of drying blood. Glancing back through the open door you see the bed you crawled from is stained with streaks of crimson. The wound in your temple aches. The missing portions of your memory mock you. There is a hole in your head.

It's too much to take in all at once. You need to prioritize. Focus on one thing at a time. You place the towel onto the countertop and let instinct and muscle memory guide you.

What do you prioritize?
List the options below, placing them in order of importance to your character (First being most important, last being least). This will determine your starting stats.
[] Clean the room. Heft the furniture back into place. Replace the books on their shelves. (STR)
[] Clean the bed. It is a mess of blood. Replace sheets. Hide stains. (DEX)
[] Clean yourself. The sink has running water. You have towels. Make yourself presentable. (CHA)
[] Tend to the wound. There is a hole in your head. Find bandages. Disinfectant. Needle and thread, if necessary. (CON)
[] Tend to yourself. There is a hole in your mind. Memories missing. You are running off instinct. Sit. Calm yourself. Remember. (POW)
[] Inspect the room. There is a hole in you. Someone or something did this. There must be clues. Find them. (INT)


Hello all!

It has been many years since I attempted to run a quest, and lately I've been in a Lovecraftian Mood. Thus, like ol' Squidface himself, that is not dead which can eternal lie. This a reboot/redux of my previous quest of the same name (Died due to Real Life issues, but I had a good time with it). It will not be a 1/1 recreation as I have different ideas in mind for this one (and also I lost all the notes for the original version). We will be using a very loose interpretation of the Call of Cthulhu RPG rules (and I do mean loose). This will not be an extremely serious delve into Eldritch Nightmares, but there will be horror, tentacles, and blood aplenty. It is still Lovecraft.

The quest is set in modern-ish times, at the famous Miskatonic University and nearby Arkham, Massachusetts. You, the players, will control a student at said university as you try to survive classes, monsters, evil cults, and your fellow students. Can you make it to graduation? Will the world even be there by the time you get your diploma? Who knows.

All you know is that you have a hole in your head. Not a great start to the year.
 
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Character Stats and Rules
General Rules:
  1. Don't be an asshole.
  2. Respect the rules of SV
  3. If, at some point, ol' Howard Phillips Lovecraft himself comes up in discussion, please keep said discussions civil and calm.
Rules of the Quest:
  1. All rolls are 1d100. The goal of these rolls is to Roll Under a target DC with modifiers.
  2. You have two main shields against the horrors of the Mythos, Sanity and HP. Sanity is both your general mental state and your resistance against further horror. HP is a combination of your physical well being and your resistance against further injury. If HP drops to zero, the character is dead. If Sanity drops to zero, the character is irrecoverably insane.
  3. If the main character dies or goes permanently insane, the quest is over.
  4. Rules can be added or changed as necessary. By me.
  5. That is not dead which can eternal lie.
Character Sheet:
  • Name: Vivianne M. Vaughan
    Student of [???] at the Miskatonic University
    Current Location: Arkham, Massachusetts
    HP: 12/13
    Sanity: 68 (70)
    STATS
    STR 10 (50) Average
    CON 15 (75) Tough
    DEX 11 (55) Average
    INT 13 (65) Clever
    POW 14 (70) Steady Under Pressure
    CHA 8 (40) Uninspiring
  • Physical Status: Mostly Fine [Dead Patch]
    Mental Status: Disturbed [Missing Memories, The Covered Hole]
    [???] Effects: [???]


Stats in this game represent the physical and mental strengths of a character. Consider them broad, overall strokes showing what a person is good or bad at. Scores range from 3 to 18, with 3 being the bare minimum a person can have and 18 representing the peak of human ability. Most human adults can be considered to have a 10-12 in all stats. Anything higher than 15 is rare.
 
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[X] Vivianne M. Vaughan
[X] Tend to yourself. There is a hole in your mind. Memories missing. You are running off instinct. Sit. Calm yourself. Remember. (POW)
 
[X] Henry Mullens

[X] Tend to the wound (first priority)
[X] Tend to Yourself
[X] Inspect the room
[X] Clean the Bed
[X] Clean the Room
[X] Clean yourself

This is what I'd do if I woke up with a hole in my head. Prioritize myself, look for who did it, then fight back everything to clean up the room and then myself.
 
[X] Leonardo Watch

[X] Tend to the wound (first priority)
[X] Tend to Yourself
[X] Inspect the room
[X] Clean the Bed
[X] Clean the Room
[X] Clean yourself
 
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[X] Tend to the wound (first priority)
[X] Tend to Yourself
[X] Inspect the room
[X] Clean the Bed
[X] Clean the Room
[X] Clean yourself
Just an fyi for everybody, this is how I intended for the vote to be formatted. Apologies if that was unclear. Make sure you list everything in order of importance, not just one option.
 
[X] Vivianne M. Vaughan
[X] Tend to Yourself
[X] Inspect the room
[X] Clean the Bed
[X] Clean the Room
[X] Clean yourself
 
[X] Vivianne M. Vaughan
[X] Tend to Yourself
[X] Inspect the room
[X] Clean the Bed
[X] Clean the Room
[X] Clean yourself
 
[X] Pwyll Rhys
[X] Vivianne M. Vaughan

[X] Tend to the wound (first priority)
[X] Tend to Yourself
[X] Inspect the room
[X] Clean yourself
[X] Clean the Bed
[X] Clean the Room
 
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[X] Vivianne M. Vaughan
[X] Tend to Yourself
[X] Inspect the room
[X] Clean the Bed
[X] Clean the Room
[X] Clean yourself
 
I'm going to do this in terms of stats. Con, Dex, Pow, Int, Cha, Str. So that's:

[X] Tend to the wound. (CON)
[X] Clean the bed. (DEX)
[X] Tend to yourself. (POW)
[X] Inspect the room. (INT)
[X] Clean yourself. (CHA)
[X] Clean the room. (STR)


I don't mind what name we choose. I also think it's pretty obvious that we couldn't handle the existential dread, lol, lmao.
 
Vote closed
Scheduled vote count started by Frostbyght on May 12, 2024 at 10:26 PM, finished with 9 posts and 8 votes.
 
Hmm. Seems I didn't set up the vote correctly, alas. We'll roll with it to keep things moving.

If I'm reading things right, it seem the winning order is:
1. Tend to the Wound (CON)
2. Tend to yourself (POW)
3. Inspect the room (INT)
4. Clean the Bed (DEX)
5. Clean the Room (STR)
6. Clean yourself
(CHA)

Will get to work! Expect update tonight or tomorrow.
 
Prologue 2
[X] Tend to the Wound (CON)

You first concern is- naturally- the actively bleeding hole in your temple. The towel, stained red by your blood, is proof that the wound needs attention. You scramble around the bathroom for a few moments, searching drawers and cabinets, and pull a first aid kit from beneath the sink. Wincing at the sharp pain, you dab away the remaining blood with a wet towel. You are just about to (gently) slap on some gauze and a bandage when you stop.

Flicking on the light over the sink (ow, your eyes), you blink away spots and take a closer look at the hole. There is something... off about it. It takes you a moment to realize exactly what. The opening isn't a cut or an incision or even a deep gash. It is sharply, precisely, and unnervingly circular. A perfectly round hole in your head.

You look away before you can see more, unsure if you really want to know how deep it goes; afraid that you already do. The bandage goes on.

[X] Tend to yourself (POW)

You sit on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor and just let yourself breathe. You've been awake for less than five minutes and it's already been one of the longest nights of your life. Not, of course, that you can remember other nights. You feel you've been doing an admirable job of not freaking out about that. Another minute passes and you feel your panicked heart slow as you take deep, focused breaths.

What do you remember?

Your name is Vivianne. You are a freshman student at the Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts. You are studying... something.

Okay, so that wasn't a lot. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your memories to come to the fore. There must more than that right?

You aren't from here; you have indistinct recollections of travel to Arkham and unloading luggage. You haven't been here very long, you think. There is something drifting through your mind about your family. You have one, at the very least. The details remain elusive. Other thoughts are harder to grasp. Personal history, hobbies, friends. All of that is lost in the fog that permeates your mind. Still, you feel better than you did just a minute ago.

You stand. Perhaps taking a look around will jog other memories.

[X] Inspect the room (INT)

The room you left in ruins is a small, two-person dorm. One bed is a mess of tossed-aside covers and bloodstains. The other is made up and empty. One half of the room shows a bloody trail of knocked-over furniture leading to the bathroom. The other is unremarkably disorganized. You have a roommate, you realize. She is not here. Not right now. Whether that is lucky or unlucky is your decision.

You crouch next to your bed, ignoring the bloodstains for the moment. Someone or something has put a hole in your temple. You'd like to know what. The next few minutes are spent looking around for anything out of place, trying to piece together any kind of clues as to what has happened.

The door to the room is locked. There are two windows, one in the dorm room itself (closed) and one in the bathroom (open). A brief glance out the bathroom window shows that you are on the third floor of this building. If someone got in here, they either had a key or scaled the wall. Both concerning options. There are footprints in the carpeting, but they could be yours or your absent roommate's. Looking closer you do see... sand? Dirt? Grains of something in the carpeting, and on the bathroom floor as well.

Your trail of destruction leaves little else to be found. It's hard to tell what isn't supposed to be here when everything is out of place.

[X] Clean the Bed (DEX)
You've never seen this much blood. Surely it can't all be yours? It seems, frankly, an obscene amount. It is not widespread, no great splatters or sprays, but the blood is thick and has soaked deeply around the pillow. The stains will not wash out. The sheets, at least, can be replaced easy; the mattress no-so-much. Other stains coat the small table by the bed and the carpet below. You find yourself wondering how much blood a person can lose before they should be dead. How much have you lost? How much more can you lose?

The table you clean easily but for a few streaks already setting into the wood. The sheets you strip from the bed and stuff in a drawer. The carpet remains your final foe, and it refuses all efforts. Finally you crouch down and drag a small decorative rug over the stains. It will have to do.

As your rise and wipe sweat from your brow, something catches your eye. There is a different stain. Not the shining red of fresh blood, nor the dried brown of old. It is minuscule, and escaped your notice until now. It is a small, inky black dot. Dark enough to stand out even in shadow. There is another. And another.

[X] Clean the Room (STR)
You lift your chair back into place, and return books haphazardly onto the shelf. The lamp you place back on the table, strategically covering those few stains you could not clean away. It is not quite enough. You can tell the room has undergone some form of small catastrophe. You try to straighten the table and move the bedframe into alignment with the wall. The strain causes your head to flare with pain once more and you abandon the effort.

Enough. You turn your attention back to the spots. With the mess cleaned, you can make out more of them. You go down to one knee and try to follow the trail. There are a dozen, perhaps two, congregated around your bed. Then fewer as you move towards the bathroom. Then none on the white tile.

This is not blood. You are sure of that. Something else has left a trail in your room. A pen, dripping ink? Some leak from a pipe? Perhaps.

Something drooling, as it stood over you in your sleep?

You shudder and banish the unbidden thought from your mind. You do not need to add nightmares to your list of worries.

[X] Clean yourself (CHA)

You step back into the bathroom, and wet a towel in the sink. Your face is now a mask of blood and sweat. The bandage has done its job however, and the blood that was already on you has not been joined by anything fresh. It is a warm evening, but the breeze through the window is cool and soothing. You give yourself a perfunctory wash, and your face comes away clean. Your hair will have to wait for a more thorough cleanse. Fuck it, you think to yourself, it's good enough.

A thought occurs as your dry your face. The breeze. Why was the window here open, but not the one in the room proper? Did you do this? Did your roommate?

Did someone else?

You creep towards the open window. The light from the bulb above the sink casts your shadow onto the ground far below. There is no light from Arkham. The city sleeps. The moon shines and offers a steady illumination. Your room looks out towards the edge of the campus, and across the road you can see the old wooded cemetery, and beyond that the rise of Hangman's Hill.

Someone is walking towards the graveyard. A lone figure. Difficult to make out even in the moonlight. You squint your eyes, trying to seek out more detail. They are carrying something slung under their arm, it is large and rectangular. A box of some form, perhaps. They have almost made it to the road.

What do you do? (Choose One)
[] Watch them go.

Try to make out any detail you can. (INT Check)
[] Chase them down.
Find the stairs. Find the front door. Follow them into the night. Damn your injury. (STR Check)
[] Climb down the side of the building.
Now this is surely just foolishness. But if they did it, can't you? (DEX Check)
[] Go back to bed.
Blood? Missing memories? Strange figures climbing through windows? This is surely just a dream. You will awake soon, restored and whole once more...right? (POW Check)
 
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You now have a character sheet and a status sheet. Character sheet covers things like your stats, your Health, and your current sanity. The status sheet covers things current affecting Vivianne physically, mentally, and otherwise. I will be updating these with more information as you gather some. For the moment, Viv doesn't have a lot.
 
[X] Watch them go.
Try to make out any detail you can. (INT Check)

So someone or something broke into our room in the middle of the night, drooled, and then took out a little piece of our head and probably some of our brain before it left. And now we got Mr. alone in the graveyard, there's a good chance we'll die if we follow him, especially if he's the one that put the hole in our head.
 
[x] Watch them go.
Try to make out any detail you can. (INT Check)

The wise move would be to just go to sleep.

But this is a Lovecraft story! Wisdom is for other people!
 
[X] Watch them go.

I think it would be a cool image, us watching silhouetted in the bathroom light, like a dark figure with burning eyes - and in the distance this stranger walking away if illuminated by the hazy lamplight and the gaze of the moon. But more than that, our memories are a mess and our life will be upturned from this single night, we ourself is a stranger to ourself, these two strangers exchanging glances, but yet so different as well - one in genesis and one to the graveyard. How cool is that? The night is dark and deep and full of terrors - there are miles to go before we sleep.
 
[X] Chase them down.
Find the stairs. Find the front door. Follow them into the night. Damn your injury. (STR Check)

let us rush out into the night to make sense of what's going on
and maybe we'll run into our roommate too on the way there who could give us some great information when they find us with a hole in our head unable to remember them and running around at the dead of night
 
Voting Closed
Well I think that's a wrap. Gotta remember to actually set up the voting next time.

LETS ROLL IT. DC 65 INT Check. Looking to Roll Under.

POST ROLL EDIT: Good Start for the first Dice Roll of the Quest. This bodes well. Update on the way.
Frostbyght threw 1 100-faced dice. Reason: Watch Them Go Total: 84
84 84
 
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Prologue 3
[X] Watch Them Go (INT Check)

DC 65. Roll 84. Failure.

Arkham is not a large town, and here at the edge of campus you cannot rely on streetlights to illuminate the figure below. Your only friend in this moment is the moon. The buildings of the University cast great shadows where anyone could hide, and the graveyard is filled with trees. You have very little time. You watch carefully as your target crosses Hill street, and for a brief moment they are exposed in the pale light.

The figure is... tall. They are wearing a loose jacket that hangs limply across their frame. Their stride is steady and confident. The thing in their arms is, you can tell, a box. It looks odd. A perfect cube. The rest you cannot make out from this distance. The figure reaches the other side of the road. Furtively, they seem to stop and look around. For a second, you swear they look back towards the campus. Towards you.

Then the moment passes. They disappear into the wooded graveyard beyond the edge of your sight. Into the dark. You sit at the window for several long heartbeats. You are alone. The sounds of gentle wind and chirping insects are your only company. Storm clouds roll in the distance. Rain is on the way.

Your eyes strain against the shadows of the graveyard, trying to pick out any movement between the trees and headstones. Storm clouds roll in the distance. Rain is on the way. Your fingers tighten on the windowsill. It is not enough. You still don't know anything. No clues. No answers. Not even the slightest hint of what the hell happened to you. A scream of frustration rises in your throat, but is forced back down. You release your grip.

A wave of exhaustion hits you. Your eyelids feel heavy. How long since you awoke, panicked and bloodied? It feels like hours. Leaning back, you let the cool breeze blow against your face for many minutes. Sleep beckons. You want to just spread yourself on the tile floor and rest. Beyond the window the moon still shines over the edge of town. Over the graveyard and Hangman's Hill. You take one last look, searching the woods for any sign of the figure. One last look and then, you think, you can rest. You can sleep. You can wake up in a world where things make sense.

Alas, you never get the chance.

The wind and insects, the distant thunder, the sound of your own heartbeat; all go silent. In the distance you hear a piercing, shrill noise. A whistle that sends a chill down your spine. Your head pounds, a fresh headache arriving with the shriek. Your eyes snap to the horizon. You see - or you think you see - a figure on the hill beyond the graveyard, arms raised to the sky. A second whistle splits the night. The headache grows into a migraine. Your eyes ache. Something is wrong in the distance. There is a shadow against the storm. You hear a third whistle and your vision grows dark. For the moment you cling to consciousness you hear the beating of wings and see something swoop through the clouds.

And then you fall into blissful unconsciousness.

Your sleep is dreamless. Deep.

When you finally awake, you are on the bathroom floor. A puddle of drool spreads across the tiles. Sunlight streams through the bathroom window. Birdsong and the smell of fresh rain drifts in on the morning breeze. Your head still hurts, but the pain is no longer sharp and clear. It is dull and distant. Pulling yourself to your feet you stagger over to the mirror and assess the situation.

You still remember your name. You still remember your own face. The bandage is still there. It was real.

You still cannot remember much else.

Emerging from the bathroom back into the main dorm, you find the other bed still empty. No sign of your roommate, whoever she is. Her personal belongings are neatly packed and stored. And... there's a calendar hanging on the wall over her desk. You squint at the notes on the days. It takes a moment for your muddled mind to register the date.

It is the end of September. The semester started in August.

You have been at this school for a month, and you cannot remember any of it. A bell rings in the distance. You hear movement in the halls. Classes will soon be starting for the day.

Fuck.

It is Monday, September 26th. You have enough time for one (1) thing before you have to seek out your first class for the day.
You do not know your major.
You do not know your roommate.
You do not know the layout of campus.
What do you do? Choose One.
[] Search your belongings for paperwork and notes. You must have information somewhere. Learn what you are... learning.
[] You are still injured. There's a hole in your head. Get on a fresh change of clothes and find the nurses office.
[] Find your roommate. She must know things about you. She must be able to help.
[] Classes? Roommates? None of this matters. Get across the road and check out that Graveyard. Something happened over there.
[] Other? (Write In)
 
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