25 - Jeulgeoum Funk

Scrap gave us MISTER PIGS,

O god no more please, I have done so many of these things..

Fine. One more. One last pong. This is all the creative juice that has not yet been squeezed from my parched rind.

Conceived upon a member of an famous K-Pop group after an encounter with the divine presence while on a spiritual retreat, the existence of Jeulgeoum Funk , revealed through ultrasound, was considered a first a hoax.

His father unknown [FOR LEGAL REASONS BUT YOU GAN GUESS CAN'T YOU], Jeulgeoums nature began to be revealed as his mother entered the third trimester and the elephant headed fetus started to get funky in his sleep.

When Jeulgeoum danced, leaving his mother with an inconstant digestion, many of those who slept on earth began to lucid dream of strange sights.

Those who were parted physically were reunited in the dreams of the pachydermal demigod child. Those who were trapped physically were given great spaces to roam in his dream-realm. It is even said that some encountered those parted from them by death.

Jeulgeoums powers only seem to have advanced with birth and he now speaks to us through an insanely popular toy-review Youtube channel.

His dancing, which he does spontaneously, for hours at a time, still brings together in dreams those who are parted and its cumulative effect has heralded in a new age of world peace.

And with that, finally, I am DONE, and may return you, as if in a great loop, to the START.

23 The Many-Any Tree and the Last Cat

Last day of the Ping-Pong you nerds

Scrap gave us a Halycon Host

And asked, what is this?

The Many-Any Tree
and
the Last Cat

This happened in the last days of the world when things were winding up and events were drawing to a close.

Many of the laws had left early. to go somewhere else? wrapping up a new planet like a gift in a fresh Cartesian grid? Or maybe they were tired and old, and slept.

Whatever the case, there were fewer of them left, and those weak.

So in that long slow dying time, which was no time, and could barely be counted, there were less questions if things changed. So everything loosed up, and things could be what they wanted to be, or what they dreamed they might be.

It was then, a little like things had been at the first, before the names were given, colours and shapes known, languages spoken.

Though, back in those days nothing knew anything and anything would say whatever it wanted, just shout it out without thinking, like babies, or chicks in a nest.

Now, everything knew a great deal, and had been a great deal, but they had not fully forgotten what they had been so the whole thing was something of a pretence of pretending to be something you knew you were not.

At least, that was the opinion of the Many-Any Tree, who had not made itself popular with its views on the continuity of self, and stubbornly held to its identity as "tree"; roots in the earth, trunk, leaves, the whole deal, even when many other things had faded or shifted, transformed into concepts or dreams.

"Call me conservative" said, and secretly wished, the tree, with its rainbow of bark, its infinity of leaves and its cornucopia of unknown fruits, many bringing death, or magical powers.

"But I find the old ways are best. Roots in soil, branches in the air etc etc".

In those days everything could speak and think but it seems no-one was listening to the Many-Any Tree, not even the sun who meditated gloomy and dying, white like a mummified monk in the red sky.

"YES, CALL ME CONSERVATIVE!" said the tree again, louder this time.

"Perhapsss.." said a voice or "perhapss not.."

"What is this? Who are you?" said the Many-Any Tree, "why starest thou upon my boughs?"

"I am the lasst cat." said the Last Cat, and grinned, staring at the Many-Any Tree, pattering in slow circles around it

"You are a sstatic creature" said the cat.

The Many-Any Tree observed the Last Cat, examining it slowly, carefully and thoroughly, wracking its mind to remember everything it could about "Cats", hoping to find some difference with which it could judge and condemn "The Last Cat" for its pretension, delusion and lies.

But the Many-Any Tree remembered too-much and not-enough, and the centuries had turned to snakes and slithered away leaving it no sense of time or place.

"I do not know," said the Many-Any Tree, "if Cats ever grinned as you do now, or stared, as you stare upon my boughs" . (Yet it felt secretly that they may have done just that).

"Those catss did not know what I know." said the Last Cat, circling, and staring.

"And what is that?" relied the Many-Any Tree.

"Ssssecretss."

The Many-Any Tree was not sure if this reply was entirely correct but something in its nature did strike a very cat-like chord and it found it hard to argue otherwise. Perhaps cats did grin with secrets. It seemed like the kind of thing they would do.

"In any case," said the tree, "though cats _may_ smile, I do not know if that strange absence of colour is correct. I am sure nothing could have been which was no-colour."

This seemed reasonable to the Tree for, in these days of the world, there was no night or day, and a billion colours swirled.

"I am black." Said the Last Cat. "And black I mussst be."

"And why is that?" said the Tree.

"I have crossssed a path." Replied the cat. "And a path-crossing cat is ALWAYSSSS black. Ssso the sssaying goes."

This argument to precedence troubled the tree for it was the kind of thing it; the Many-Any Tree, would have preferred to make itself. And while it could vaguely recall that there was some speaking or knowledge about cats and paths, it did not remember any details of it and was afraid to form a response lest it seem like a fool.

The Last Cat circled closer, still smiling.

"I will not argue such a minor point" said the Any-Many Tree, "such things are beneath me. As are you. And in any case you cannot have crossed *my* path for, as you have said yourself, I am utterly still, in the classical manner of trees, and have no path.

"Thissss issss true" said the Last Cat, "you are a very sssstatic creature"

And circled closer.

Something glinted like glass between its circling paws and the Many-Any Tree felt very strange.

"Regardless of that," said the tree, who suddenly felt a burst of inspiration, "I am sure no cat ever had a sun-ring round its head as you do! That great brush of hair like comets tails! And that whipping cord to your rear! Impossible! What would a cat want with those?"

"I am royal", said the Last Cat, "the king of beastsss. This mane isss my crown. Crowned like the sssun. And this ssserpent to my rear ssstings the earth to show my rule."

The Last Cat now was still before the tree, and still grinning, sat back on its haunches and raised its front paws before the trees bark while its tail stung the earth.

The Many-Any Tree felt a deep unspoken fear in this, as if it were remembering a nightmare.

"I am certain in all of forgotten time cats did not carry knives such as you do!" said the tree, and felt itself on firmer ground with this statement, though its branches shivered a little. "Or threaten innocent trees with them!"

"Thessse are no knivessss" replied the Last Cat, "but only my smal claussssss", it grinned.

"Smal Claus!" cried the Many-Any Tree, who felt as if it might weep, and dropped a rain of crystal and immortal fruit like tears.

"Aaaand what in the world..." the tree paused, as if afraid to ask a question to which it felt it had already dreamed the answer.

But the Tree could not resist.

"What to smal claus do then?" wept the Many-Any Tree.

"SKRATCH!"

----------------------------------

Now Scrap, what is this?

Look - Their minds are like single angry wasp held in a hand, an endless pricking their mind with suspicion and hatred.

21 THE PNEUMATIC CITY OF THE MAN OF BRONZE

Scrap has given us Platonic Crocodiles.

And asked for the nature of this;

Lebbeus Woods

THE PNEUMATIC CITY 

OF THE MAN OF BRONZE

The Pneumatic city, famously driven by  a perpetual motion machine created by Doctor Bronze, the self-styled "Ultimate Man" who, after being severely wounded performing heroics in the Great War hid his ruined features behind a mask and took up the pastime of "night stalking", attacking Gangsters, Bootleggers, corrupt officials and his greatest enemy CRIME INC, a nationwide Illuminati of Assassins headed by Constantine Capone, the older, and deeply-secret Capone brother, (for whom Al was just a cover), in every way making himself the Bane of Organised Crime in America.

Doc Bronze mellowed over the years from his reportedly extremely-violent early adventures, (and severe hatred of "the Chinaman"), partly due to his own success in battling crime, partly due to age, and also perhaps because of the emergence of a range of unlikely heroes like  Mystery Belle, the Sky Smasher and The Raider Invisible who formed something of a society for the brilliant, but violent and rage-filled young man.

As the years passed, Doc Bronze turned more and more of his substantial energy and intellect to the work of science and human improvement, and towards the exploration of a mystical 'inner space'. With the aid of his friend and ally, world-famous stage magician and resurrectionist The Emerald Gleam he made, no-doubt fictionalised, excursions to "parallel earths" shadow-realities said to exist alongside our own.

It was on one of these 'pilgrimages of psychography' that Doc Bronze recovered the secret of Perpetual Motion. Whether this was some device or simply knowledge of its construction is unclear - if the Doctor recovered only knowledge, then some quality, either in the difficulty and rarity of its construction or simply his own conservative worries about what unlimited free energy might do to the world, lead him to limit its expression. So far as we know, only one core perpetual motion machine exists.

It was around the same time that Doc Bronze found brief happiness and stability with, to the surprise of all, his long-term nemesis Aluna De-Raptor, the so-called Cobweb Queen and Mistress of Secrets, who's plots and schemes had foiled and entangled the "Ultimate Man" many times.

It was then that Doc Bronze began the planning and construction of his 'perfect city' - something that would stand-for, enable and proclaim the greatest potential of America and Humanity. A 'City for All' where anyone would be welcome, provided they worked to become their own best possible self, (a substantial shift from Doc Bronzes borderline-eugenicist statements of the Mid-20's).

The City as an Engine, of material, intellectual and spiritual progress, officially named 'Excelsior', its common nick-name in the press quickly became "The Pneumatic City".

"CRIME-FIGHTER TO HOMESTEADER: MASKED MAN PLANS PNEUMATIC CITY OF PERPETUAL POWER!"

So began, high in the Rocky Mountains construction of a city powered by the hydraulic energy of dams and the natural emissions of the earth, but crucially, with that power and energy sustained by Doc Bronzes Perpetual Motion Machine. This energy powered the mighty pumps which drew water from deep beneath the earth, the cities electrical grid and pneumatic pumping stations and the gigantic endlessly-turning 'Apostle' Elevator which ran within the mountains core brining food and raw materials up to the City, and bringing down high-end manufactured goods and everything the city could produce. "All the Wonders of the Future".

All intended to link to an Electro-Galvanic Pneumatic Vacuum Railway which the Doctor intended to connect all the cities of America.

Within the city, factories of radio-controlled robots and cybernetic 'motion replicators' transformed the work of one highly skilled operator into that of tens, or hundreds, an in-built pneumatic exchange service to allow instantaneous communications between every individual and every home had its own radio and ticker-tape machine.

Crops and rare plants were grown both in fullerene domes on the mountaintops which, along with vast caverns left empty beneath the earth acted as 'meditation chambers' for the spiritual research and fulfilment of the cities population, and in vast stepped gardens within the towers. These were fed sunlight by mirrors and light-wells, along with the  of electrical lamps. At the cetnre of each was a sports-field and baseball diamond; "Babylon in America" promised the Doctor, and the cities people could sit within their terraced orchards, soaking in clear sunlight while storms whipped the mountains above, and watch a game.

Great compressors and air-factories created the gasses required by the Brass-Sun Line, the Doctors personal fleet of Airships which docked at industrial and passenger areas atop every tower, (the brass spheres holding their refuelling gas can be seen in the image).

The first few years of the Pneumatic City went well, with many of Doc Bronzes 'old pals' setting up homes there, but tragedy, economic, political, personal and, it is rumoured, spiritual, finally overtook Americas "Ultimate Man".

The loss of his wife and child in dark and unknown circumstances, rumoured to involve the resurgence of some former foe, coincided with the Great Depression and the rise of Fascism in Europe.

The world seemed a different place, and with great hordes of unemployed veterans camped outside the White House the Doctors Dream city now seemed less like a fine ideal and more like the ridiculous toy of a foolish and arrogant man.

The Docs refusal to reveal the secret of systematic perpetual motion, due to, he said "unknown and unimagined consequences", while previously tolerated, now struck a wounded society as a contemptuous and arrogant caprice.

Aging, with many of his friends and allies leaving to settle down elsewhere, and facing a changing world, Doc Bronze stalked his empty, yet endlessly-moving city, alone.

His "meditations" and "dream quests", aided by who knows what unprescribed drugs and substances, became ever more intense, ever more consuming.

Ultimately, the Man of Bronze, and his city, faded from both memory and thought. A curiosity of the age. The news of his death (or disappearance) was driven from even the middle-pages of the newspapers by Hitlers actions in Europe.

-------------------------------------

In the new age that dawned after that second terrible war the fresh powers, and terrors, of nuclear technology, the threat of communism, and the lure of global hegemony (in the cause of freedom of course), meant America had little interest in the 'clockwork city' high in the Rocky Mountains, its pneumatic rail line unbuilt and its Airship Fleet long mothballed.

And so it has remained, unfinished, empty but not quite decayed.

Under the ownership of the mysterious "Amber Foundation", the city is closed, but not shut down.

Indeed, the Pneumatic City can never shut down for it is itself a kind of machine. The workings of its elements, its levers and tubes, its brushed-steel robotics, the clicking and whirring and unending rolling of gears, the spark of transistors and the hum of its signaless teleradio transmitters, make an eternal music within its very walls.

So it remains, hanging high in the Rockies like a promise of a forgotten future, not a lost, but an unfinished Camelot.

Now Scrap, who, or what, is this?

21 Liu Xue - 刘学

Seems it is a Halycon Host

I Spek - All my Audio Interviews and Podcasts

My voice - surprisingly nasal. Here is a page of links, like a library of all the podcasts and recordings where I have been interviewed by, or talked with, someone else.

Zock Bock Radio - this was a long one about BFR but it covered a wide range.

Noisms from Monsters and Manuals - mainly about my personal history

Her Christmas Knight! - so handsome! Mainly about Broken Fire Regime

The Smart Party Interview - pre Silent Titans

Udda ting with Henrik Möller - mainly about VotE

Loco Ludus - general gaming culture

The Magniloquent Moth with Salinday, Part 1

The Magniloquent Moth with Salinday, Part 2 - another pretty wide ranging talk.

The Worm Ouroboros I talk with Tom Fitzgerald of 'Middenmurk' about the book, 'The Work Ouroboros'

The Great Crystal Debate w Kiel Chenier. Crystals, good or bad? = BAD

Podecasts

A series of conversations I had with Scrap

Podecast One

Podecast Two - Monsters

Podecast Three - Beauty

Podecast Six - Bees!

Podecast Five - Relateable Content!

Podecast Six - The Wonderful Kererū

19 The Shotwick Basement

Scrap has described the Eburnean Attendant 

And asked, what is this?

Dost thou taunt me then?

You dare to show me a cave
an hole?

ME??
GREATEST AND DEEPEST OF ALL CAVE DUDES?

The Shotwick Basement

Ethel Shotwick, hospitalised with post-partum depression and schizophrenic tendencies in 1962. Released after four months after mild electro-shock therapies and on a prescription of anti-psychotics.

By all accounts became an upstanding member of the community, well-liked by all. Though known for many eccentricities; speaking to walls, threatening shadows with mysterious signs etc.

Ethel was sometimes found out in the early hours, walking the streets of Ofthaven in her nightgown, with one of her 'devices'. These were items she had her husband build for her in their garage, which he did to her instructions after being informed by her Doctors that building and creating was a useful part of Ethels therapy, and that if that was something they could do together, then that would be good for the family. Though he always claimed "I don't know what she does with them".

The Ofthaven police were quite familiar with Ethels night-time escapades and when they heard a call of a strange woman wandering the night in nothing but slippers and a housecoat, wielding a pole-like device humming with some kind of static electricity, often accompanied by bright flashes of light; "like silent fireworks" according to witnesses, they knew what to expect.

"More of Ethels light show" was the word on the dispatch radio. The police grew quite used to escorting Ethel home in the back of their car with her "equipment", which had usually burnt out by this point and an empty box of dog treats for the local strays, and returning her to her frazzled husband at around 4am.

(It was a curious aspect of Ethels residence in Ofthaven that any local stray dogs, and lost dogs were often attracted to Ethel, and would accompany her on her 'nighttime pursuits'. The police grew so used to this that the first place they would look for any missing pet was the Shotwick residence, where it would often be found, with Ethel, having been fed and washed.)

Ethel was by all account a genial and likeable character, though "somewhat skatty", and often treated the police officers like nephews or sons, asking after their families and lives.

Only two incidents disturbed this pattern.

In August 1982, during an unusually hot, yet dark summer, with heavy cloud cover both night and day, and during a spate of teenage suicides, almost certainly due to group hysteria and the infiltration of new drugs into the town, along with a commensurate 'satanic panic' amongst the towns evangelical community, Ethel was found out on her usual rounds but with her Husbands service revolver in her pocket.

She was extremely apologetic to the police and explained that she would never have used it
but the Dark Ray powers were very strong just now.

After the officers spoke to Ethels husband Daniel Shotwick, it was agreed that Ethels night time activities should be curtailed, and Daniel placed a lock on their bedroom door, the key to which he kept tied around his neck, making Ethel promise that she would not take it off.

The second incident took place about a week after Ethels escapade with the gun.

Two officers were called by neighbours hearing loud sounds. Officer Mike Barry, a 20 year veteran, and someone quite familiar with the Ethel, found the house dark and the door unlocked.

Barry claimed he feared home invasion and sent his partner, John VanVort, around the back to catch any 'fleeing suspects'.

This was an unusual break in protocol for Barry, since standard guidance would insist that VanVort entered the house with him as backup.

Annotations to the casefile suggest that Barry likely suspected Suicide, or Murder-Suicide, and wished to spare VanVort, who was in his first week of active service, the sight of the bodies.

VanVort describes the sight of Barrys torch inside the house, then, "a flash of light of some kind, blue-white. Then a scream, really, a really bad scream like someone caught in a machine, with a snarl like twisting metal".

Racing into the house VanVort found Barry in a catatonic state, and with his face and body contorted in such a way that VanVort initially assumed he was deceased, and which was described as 'distressing' by the later attending physician.

VanVort said he found the house 'normal, no-one there, no signs of struggle', but quickly left the scene with Barry.

Regrettably, Barrys catatonic state persisted till his death in hospital 10 years later.

The photograph in question was taken by the investigative team who returned to the Shotwick house at dawn the following day.

They found the house in good order, but with signs that someone, probably Ethel by the missing clothes, had made quick preparations for a hurried flight. The car was still the the garage.

This image is labelled as being of the Shotwicks "under-basement".

Apparently the Shotwick house had a pine-floor basement which was used as a rec room. During a search of the house, a Police K9 unit located a loose plank, which when removed, exposed a ladder, leading down.

This brought the investigators to what they describe as an "under basement", which this image shows.

No further records or reports of the Shotwick case exist, both Shotwicks being registered a 'missing' in 1982. and 'missing - presumed dead' five years later. The case files have been unopened since that date.


…………………………………………………………………………………….


PATIENT: SHOTWICK, ETHEL
WESTCHESTER MENTAL HOSPITAL
INITIAL INTERVIEW AND SUBSEQUENT ASSESMENT
(PRECIS)
6/28/1962


Patient describes a the golden land at the centre of the earth occupied by the beneficent golden ones now too ancient, frail, vulnerable and spiritually pure to emerge into our "fallen world".

Describes lost civilisation of non Homo-Sapiens but related form, as in "something like the Neanderthals" and technological civilisation existing long before the development of agriculture by Homo Sapiens.

The "Elders of Mu" beam the golden radiation of their thoughtful empathy out into the world
blocking, counteracting and reversing the foul mind-control machines of the "Dero".

The Dero are a similar but more ancient race, this one dedicated to evil.

These actions (of the Elders) must be maintained in "deep secrecy" since the Dero machines read and work from, the neocortex and language centres first, infiltrating the rest of the mind invisibly from there, altering its comprehension of reality and changing its memories with "invasive altering mind-phages"

Thusly the Elders of Mu cannot work with the aspects of the literate or self-aware mind and can proceed only through "intuition" and "dream visions" which they bestow upon a "sensitive few".

Patients paracosm is standard, and highly inventive imaginative structure most commonly held with paranoid schizophrenics. The "Dero" and their mind-control devices in particular are a common theme amongst our more troubled patients, though under a variety of names and forms.

The construction of an imagined world in which the patient is central to reality-shaking events but must defend hidden secrets which the outside world would never understand is a classic defence mechanism.

In this case, likely trauma due to stillbirth of child triggered nascent schizophrenic tendencies.

Darker elements of patients fantasy are troubling, nevertheless, patient is increasingly bright, empathic, popular with the staff and is responding well to treatment. Her construction of the "Elders of Mu" as a beneficent life-giving force I take as a positive sign of her personality attempting to reconstruct itself in a healthy and pro-social way.

Considering the patients good character I have bent our treatment programme slightly and made limited use of the "Elders of Mu", using questions as "Wouldn't the Elders want you to get healthy?" and "What do you think the Elders would think of that thought process?".

I realise this does risk embedding the patient ever-more deeply in her paracosm, but her very strong response to this line of treatment and her general improvement in health, vitality and optimism I think justifies this mild 'bending' of the rules.

Patient says she is eager to be healed and to get back to work, which, considering her profession is listed as "housewife" I assume to mean the support of her husband, which I find admirable.


---------------------------------------------

Now Scrap, what is this?

Eva Funderburgh

It is a PLATONIC CROCODILE.

17 The chain of the Lunar Majesty

Scrap has given us a sessile larvae form of a Piper of Azathoth.

And asked for the nature of this;

The chain of the Lunar Majesty

This is the spirit of a Dead Deodand, one who, in its destruction has gone to the Ghenna of Machines, that part of the Manifold Hells dedicated to punishing such things.

In older times those tools, beasts and devices which aided and abetted mortal sin were held guilty of those self same sins. Called Deodands, they were tried and convicted as if they were men, insensate though they may be.

This custom either prefigures, or poorly represented a quite-real, and much more severe
divine ruling. For all those tools, machines, objects and beasts, are indeed held quite guilty of all the sins which they commit, and like living souls once their use is permanently over, (and He who stands beyond Time knows well when this is), their soul falls to the Deodand Ghenna, there to be judged, and to suffer for its crimes.

An apparently simply divine decree with surprisingly complex and exponentially difficult meta-theology required in order to fulfil it, and with curious side-effects on the Economy of Hell.

Firstly, that without a mind cannot suffer, and cannot know guilt or shame, so a clade of curious Angels is imbued with the desire and ability to imbue these material scraps with intelligence and self-awareness, at least enough for them to realise that they are guilty and for them to feel bad about it.

Those who find this insane would do well to consider their own material conditions;
born into a culture, a body and with a family and social position over none of which they have any control, and set there, often to suffer, at complete random. Is your position that much stranger than an animated chain?

Then a separate clade of Demons is employed to educate the Deodands to the point where they understand the context and meaning of the sin they committed. Which perforce, requires that they develop some knowledge of the material realm, based in each case, purely around the circumstances of their evil deed.

Strange beings, born only to suffer and atone

Still, hell itself, in a wider sense, has a similar mirrorverse pseudoculture, reality itself is arranged specifically to be a suffering nightmare, but since every intelligent thing there is deeply concerned with the specifics of the human world, and many of those beings are self-aware, and many of the rest extremely complex, then hell has a society, and an economy, even though its substance is shaped by spirt, soul and divine decree.

Machines in hell are useful, but very hard to make, reality having little regularity to it and Devils being skilled mainly in the engineering of torture devices. So it is that most technological needs in hell are filled by these animated Deodands, traded like slaves between the layers of pain.

A demon might call another on the Iphone used to text an assassin, (shouting over the dumb burbling voice of the phone itself). Dukes of Annihilation look things up on laptops belonging to terrorists and mobsters, or just those used to cave in someones head. Lords of Despair ride a wide range of cars.

And of guns, bombs, knives and swords, well there is no shortage of those in hell, sometimes they literally carpet the floor. Sometimes they *are* the floor. Its more rare to be in a space away from weapons.

This particular Deodand is the Chain of the Lunar Majesty, which snapped on launch, allowing the Lunar Majesty to slide down its dry-dock and turning sixty-six stevedores to paste.

Now it stumbles hither and yon in hell, piloted by possessed legs, serving whatever cause is called on by its lords.


......................

Now Scrap, what is this?

Is is a beautiful Eburnean Attendant

Stretch-Goal Two! FEAST OF BUKAKO!!

BEHOLD THE LARGESSE

Ok, with only six days left on the Kickstarter we have developed another, completely ridiculous stretch goal!

At a total of £35,000

Scrap and I will institute the FEAST OF BUKAKO.

Named of course, for the long-loved and world famous stories of Bukako, the spell-consuming monkey and his partner and mount, the magical Pleasing Fish.

"Patrick what is the Feast of Bukako?" I hear you cry.

Some of you may be familiar with venerable-but-still-fresh calmpunk luminary and OSR blogger, Brendan Strejcek.

Here is Brendan;

Back in 2015, Brendan did a book called 'Wonder and Wickedness'. (Just google Wonder and Wickedness for reviews).

This was a book of original spells notable for their mixture of poetry, clarity and especially the fact that they were LEVELESS.

Any Magic-User could learn any spell and the power and potential blowback of the spell, increased with the level of the Magic-User. So every spell was useful to every wizard.

Wouldn't it be great (I thought), if we could pay Brendan to do that for every spell in the D&D SRD and so change spellcasTing in D&D forever, for everyone, by totally altering the way they act with levels, and we could make the finished spellbook free for all.

And that's very slightly, at a much smaller scale, what we propose to start doing now.

There are just over thirty spells in Deep Carbon Observatory. A handful new, but the rest standard D&D spells;

• Avoid Notice 
• Bookspeak 
• Change Self 
• Control Weather
• Earthquake
• Ease Grief 
• Enlarge
• ESP 
• Fear 
• Fly 
• Hide Sorrow 
• Identify 
• Invisibility 
• Lessen Pain 
• Locate Object 
• Magic Jar  
• Magic Missile 
• Mending 
• Message 
• Mind Blank
• Minimise Thirst 
• Mirror Image 
• Part Water
• Permanency
• Phantasmal Force
• Polymorph Any Object
• Reduce Scars 
• Shape Change
• Shield
• Shrink 
• Sleep 
• Speak With Animals 
• Suggestion 
• Trap the Soul
• Wall of Fog
• Water Breathing

So at our stretch goal, we have agreed with Brendan that he will produce leveless rules for all of these spells.

Those spells will then be made available to all in a BASIC (i.e. Just the Text, bookmarks etc) PDF that anyone can access.

This means first, that anyone who needs to find a spell while running or playing DCO can just grab this document.

But secondly, the long term (very long term) goal is to, every time False Machine produces a D&D adventure with spells, we hope to add new leveless versions by Brendan to the stretch goals, and then add the completed spells to the giant list.

And, (I repeat), this will be free and accessible and useable by all.

So, if things go well, (in the future, which definitely will exist ha ha ha) ultimately, we should be able to produce a new old-school master-list of leveless spells which can go into the giant OSR/BX/D&D commons for any future project or game by anyone who wants them.

(And then feed them to a Magic Monkey called Bukako obviously).

CLICK FOR THE KICKSTARTEROR THE IMAGE TOP RIGHT