In the barely populated darkness of the Antarctic winter, an array of desperately weird station support staff get a splatterpunk shock with the opening of a Hell Portal and the subsequent demonic invasion. But if the world ends in McMurdo Sound… will anybody even notice?
This session is powered by the ever spectacular Machine Age Productions’ gnarly punk splatterfest, Fuck Armageddon. Chug your Badassium, grab your friends and stomp some fuckin’ demons.
Well a happy Yule and new year to all our Southern imaginary listeners! With this auspicious occasion at play, we’re doing a little midwinter clean here at Liberation Industries.
Don’t panic, we’re just doing what we can to clean up our signal, so you may notice some changes in our format… you can now expect your episodes on the second and fourth Thursday of every month, and our theme music will still be provided by the very talented tgamel over at freesfx.co.uk, but our episodes and website will be seeing an overhaul in the next couple of weeks.
With the darkness of midwinter upon us, we have an alarming Antarctic adventure powered by Machine Age Productions‘ punk-apocalyptic demon splatterfest, Fuck Armageddon!
Stay metal imaginary listeners.
Stymied by their wily would-be sacrificial victims, Ashland’s cultists unleash the powers of their horrifying patron on their sleepy hometown. Will Armand, Dorothea and Ralph be able to keep their otherworldly allies from giving them away?
Do you want to Summon Soth?
Sorry for broadcast delay folks, its been the traditional cavalcade of family weddings and sickness. In recompense, here’s some design notes regarding the last little arc of our Flying Circus game.
Though Flying Circus obviously draws very heavily from historical sources when it comes to how its planes operate, the setting has been from the beginning plugged as, I suppose, a kind of diesel-punk laced high fantasy. Now we were operating in an odd place here, as a lot of the setting info is not yet published and we had adopted a slightly alternative setting anyway. Not wanting to jump straight to dragons, I decided to bring in an alternative airborne creature.
Naturally, the solution came in the form of a strange multilingual pun.
Now, our setting Maralto draws heavily on Italian imagery, and the Italian word for witch is strega. We can trace the route of this word back to the Latin strix, for screech owl, and its distant cousin strige does in fact parse as “a bird of ill omen”, which could be seen as equivalent to the bad reputation that crows and ravens have in English speaking countries. So naturally this gets thoughts of psychopomp birds stirring around in my brain.
The Striges then, within our setting, are a kind of revenant. When a strong-willed witch or sorcerer dies and that death cuts short the great work of their lives, the screech owls of the ghost world may offer them a choice. Rather than carrying them on into the great unknown beyond death, the owl may bring their spirit back into the world, repairing the body in their own image and fueling it with a hunger for blood, vengeance and the shadowy magic of the netherworld.
With this flickering magic surging through their skeletal frames and between their grey feathers, the Striges are given a near immortal chance at vengeance or, more rarely, closure. Their shadow wings carry them as fast as a fighter plane, and the long claws on their fingers can tear horrific gouges in steel plate and flesh alike. Perhaps most alarmingly, these avian horrors seem beyond the reach of death; though they can most certainly be wounded and broken in the manner of mortal things, the shadows will knit them back together in time. There are rumours that only burial with full funerary rites in consecrated ground will spell a true end to these creatures, but given the rarity of priests willing to cooperate with such actions this remains speculation.
So there you have it. Our terrifying owl-channelling sky witches were based on an old Italian play on words and some bits of James O’Barr’s The Crow, with perhaps a smattering of the Strix from Vampire the Requiem. But ain’t it funny how inspiration works that way…?
Good hunting to y’all.
After a bender culminating in some ill advised purchases, squadmates Francesca, Zelig and Geneve find themselves once again on the wrong end of debt collector’s attention. Despite not really understanding how the homeless mystic will pay them, they decide to take Drifty’s offer to clear the skies over the mountain pass… and run into the horrors of both Maralto’s magic, and its past.
With injuries like these, Vand the Whisper, Veleris the Hound and Miss Ruby the Spider could really do with a cocktail, a massage and two weeks on a beach in Iruvia. What they have is two canisters of Leviathan Oil, some hastily trained orphans, a bag of improvised explosives and a priest to kill.
Time to do the Deep Lord’s work.
Pic is Urban Explorer Aboard Derelict Frigate by Tom Blackwell on Flickr, CC A N$.
Blades in the Dark is a fantastic game, and you’re likely to be hearing a lot more of it and its descendants from us.