Veins of the Earth is (also) a Mothership Bestiary

Veins of the Earth (VotE henceforth) is an old-school take on the Underdark, published in 2017 by Patrick Stuart. Work on a remastered version is currently underway. Stuart's fictional worlds are sharply realized and evocative, but I have found it difficult to bring those worlds to the table, precisely because they are so unique and sometimes difficult to fit into a game that is not built around them.

I have used bits and pieces of VotE in the past, but never incorporated all of its tools into my games. The vibe is pretty dark, bordering on survival horror, like the movie The Descent extrapolated out into a whole underground world. So I have struggled to add a lot of VotE's best elements to my dungeon fantasy games.

But VotE is not just a dungeon fantasy bestiary. The horror? The cold logic of its world? The sense of deep time? Could that work in another system that I've been running lately? A system like Mothership?

To illustrate, I have randomly chosen a few VotE monsters and described how they could appear in a Mothership game. Suggested stat blocks refer to Unconfirmed Contact Reports (UCR), the Mothership bestiary.

Fossil Vampire

Entombed, ancient vampires, gone mad from confinement, hungry for blood they can no longer digest. This one needs essentially no tailoring. VotE’s description of an actual strata of buried vampire paleo-horror is a ready-made Mothership scenario.

You could have it take place on a dry desert planet, and model the fossil vampires as thirsty not just for blood, but for any source of moisture, desiccating their victims into husks. Perhaps the planet has an irregular day/night cycle, due to axial tilt, a binary star system, or some other stellar effect. If the characters can figure out how the day/night cycle works, they can use that against the vampires.

For swarms of fossil vampires, exploding out of an exposed seam of vampire sediment, use the UCR’s generic swarm stat block. If any crew member is overwhelmed three-to-one or more by these creatures, they are dehydrated (disadvantage on all rolls, per the food & water rules in the Player’s Survival Guide (p. 32.5). Any successive hit from a swarm of vampires to an already-dehydrated character is an automatic wound.

For a different style of vampire scenario, use the generic hunter stat block (or the stats for the Belladonnas) and deploy it in a classic Alien “it is loose on the ship” scenario. Same dehydration ability. It will also “drink” ship water supplies, liquid fuel, pseudomilk, and any other liquid it can find.

Stormsheep

Glassy, conductive things, spiky like sea urchins, moving by instinct, seeking electricity and conductive metals. Once again, here is a monster that can be dropped into a Mothership game with almost no tailoring. 

Imagine a routine ore transport job. The ore is mostly lead, but there are chunks of copper mixed in with the lead, and dormant stormsheep are sleeping within the copper. Agitated by the electrical field of the crew’s ship during a warp jump, the stormsheep awaken and begin to escape their leaden prison. 

The crew becomes aware of them at first due to minor electrical malfunctions. This can play out like a Star Trek episode, where something that initially appears to be a mundane ship maintenance issue hints at a bigger problem. This kind of scenario can organically engage first the teamsters, then the scientists and androids, and finally the marines, as the problem matriculates from annoyance to mystery to danger.

Stormsheep can interact catastrophically with the electrical field of the brain. Body save or brain damage (disadvantage at one randomly chosen skill). Advanced anti-epilepsy implants can fix this condition, but they’re not cheap. The stormsheep are also harmed by this contact, as human thoughts stagger and madden them. So stormsheep as a threat present a different look than the typical monster that just wants to consume the crew; the encounter is mutually disastrous for the crew and the stormsheep.

Perhaps the stormsheep can be lured out of the ship with a uniquely conductive metal or a similarly ingenuous plan. But the simplest way to deal with it – not the most ethical, but the most direct – is to throw people at it until the conflicting memories of their fried synapses scramble the stormsheep until they can be safely jettisoned.

Silichominids

I want to quote from this VotE entry to really drive home how much industrial language and modern imagery is baked into what is ostensibly a fantasy bestiary. A silichominid has “the smell of plastic landfills”; an “atom-reactor hatewail”; flesh “woven from beryllium and aluminum." These are silicon-based creatures wearing “exo-suits” to explore what they perceive as a hostile environment. 

While the stormsheep are dangerous because they don’t realize electricity from human neurons is not OK to eat, the silichominids are dangerous because carbon-based life is a complete mystery to them. VotE says “Imagine sheltered first-world tourists wandering around a refugee camp.” Their touch burns. Everything that is natural and good to them is toxic and deadly to humans. The opposite is true, and if their suits are ruptured, it is like a small dirty nuke going off. Think about all the sci-fi stories that involve humans harming or destroying alien life due to various anthropocentric assumptions, then turn those around. When the Silichominids show up, the crew is on the receiving end of a Stanisław Lem story.

Use the brute stat block from UCR, with an extra 4d10 damage at close range from the explosion if its suit is ruptured.

The World's Largest Rewrite: Octo-Cultists, Bug Ecology, Tortoise Tsar

Previous posts in this series are here if you want to try to understand what is going on here. On to the monsters.

#3: Bandit. Whereas OSE brigands are fighter-coded ruffians, the bandits are the thief-derived scoundrels. Going back to the Overhaul mercenary entry, we learn that their mission is to bulk up their numbers. So they’re here at the prison to recruit anyone (or anything) who is close to escaping, particularly if their help indebts the creature to them. In contrast to the loud and obvious brigand group, these bandits are keeping a low profile. 

The OSE entry notes they can have a leader of 2nd level or higher (any human class). Rolling randomly, we get magic-user. Using the Overhaul’s adventurer table we get “Smith M. Ledgermain,” which is sounds like a wizard forced to make up a fake name on the spot. He has a fancy feathered hat, is a spy, and has a hypnotic silver hand mirror. OK, so the bandits are here to recruit, but Ledgermain is also after a person of interest within the prison; probably someone he wants to kill. His bandit gang doesn’t know about this secret objective.

#124: Troll. The Overhaul entry gives us some good material to add around the classic vanilla OSE block. Apparently people call these trolls “night howlers.” While I don’t have any issue with players metagaming a troll encounter (because metagaming is good gaming), there’s an extra challenge if the DM never says the word “troll.” It requires the players to make the connection in order to gain the advantage. These troll pa-troll-ees (maybe? idk) specialize in “tragic ransoms.” They’re rubberized, so they can squeeze under some of the prison doors. Probably some kind of acid runoff from the black dragon is helping to keep them imprisoned. And of course these trolls are the source of our thouls.

#68: Lizard, Giant. Picking randomly we get the horned chameleon, who has a sticky tongue-grab attack, camouflage, and a knock-down tail attack. That’s plenty of action for a brute like this. We’ll treat these as steeds and guardians for our trepan lizards, who clearly need some muscle to support their brainy rule.

#1: Acolyte. There are seven of them, so they get a third-level leader. The Overhaul sends us to the cultist entry, where we learn that they lair in an ancient amphitheater, and their dark purpose is the manipulation of political events. Maybe their leader is Smith M. Ledgermain’s target? 

These cultists want to complete a ritual to summon an obedient avatar of their god, and the ritual requires crystals, bone, and ash, so they’re trying to collect those items within the dungeon. Apparently they follow Garnsolex the Kraken! Perhaps Garnsolex is one of those giant intelligent octopi we heard about earlier. Again using the Overhaul’s adventurer table to flesh out the acolyte's leader, we learn they are Ren Cullowsong, who has an octoparrot advisor. Perfect.

#129: Warp Beast. This is OSE’s non-trademark-infringing displacer beast. As previously mentioned, they hate -- and are hated in turn -- by blink dogs. The Overhaul, in yet another taxonomic choice I appreciate and agree with, groups both displacer beasts and blink dogs under the category of “shivered beast,” a catch-all for creatures that can violate Euclidian reality in some way. 

The entry includes a “displaced cat” to meet the demand for vanilla displacer beasts, but I’m more interested in one of the novel types from the shivered beast variant table. Choosing randomly, I get the underdog, a cunning lizard-hound that can appear or disappear under any unobserved space. It experiences gravity in an inverted way, and has a double climb speed. I like this as an imprisoned creature that is trying to escape, but is also the principal foe of the blink dogs.

#98: Robber Fly. Three-foot long flies that hunt killer bees. Once again, the implied ecosystem is interesting. They hunt killer bees and are immune to their venom. They are in turn preyed on by giant tiger beetles. Our intelligent factions are going to want to exploit robber flies too, because they can kill bees, which control the valuable honey. Not every monster needs to be part of an ecological chain like this, but done in moderation, it really improves what could be “just another giant bug” in a vacuum. 

#66: Leech, Giant. Speaking of giant bugs... here's the leeches. While OSE giant leeches have six times as many hit dice as stirges, they only drain at twice the rate. The Overhaul gives us a few entries to borrow from, including marine worm. The lamprey variant heals when it bites. That works for me.

#33: Dryad. Dryads must stay near their trees, so they're helpful to the celestials as "guardians" who won't just leave. Perhaps the prison builders enticed them to move here by promising to protect their trees. They’ve charmed both intruders and prison escapees and are becoming increasingly paranoid as the local situation gets worse. One or more of the dryads is injured and that’s why the unicorn is here.

#43: Ghoul. I considered creating a ghoul that is closer to the ghūl origins of the term (a shapeshifting “demon,” something like a djinni), but I think it would require a deeper study of the mythology to do it justice. For now, we will stick with the familiar fantasy genre representation of the ghoul as a corpse-eating, paralysis-inducing undead creature. Monster Overhaul, take the wheel.

The ghouls’ corpse acquisition scheme is a massive tunnel collapse. Perhaps they’re digging under the prison, hoping to undermine sections of the prison and feast upon the prisoners. No one will miss those terrible prisoners, right? The ghouls will even parlay with the PCs, seeking information about the greatest concentrations of sapient creatures (the Overhaul notes they specifically eat the flesh of intelligent creatures). This would be an interesting moral dilemma for the PCs; would they be willing to ally with the ghouls, in the interest of taking out a “worse” faction of non-undead creatures?

#31: Dragon Turtle. The dragon turtle fills the same well-populated sea monster niche as the sea serpent and giant tentacled things, although it has a bit more flair (steam breath, mistaken for an island). But we planned for this. 

Most of the Monster Overhaul covers the classic monsters one would expect in a fantasy RPG; goblins, dragons, zombies, normal humans. But I appreciate that the book also found room for unique creations of the blogging world, and the dragon turtle entry gives us an excuse to use one of them: the tortoise tsar.

This is a coal-eating, serf-oppressing turtle who eats coal. It is easy to imagine him ending up in prison. Over an IRL year ago, we learned that our fire elemental was summoned by the tsar, so he currently has some power within the prison. He’s currently scheming to get (1. more coal (2. more peasants and (3. his freedom. Tsar Yuri VIII has 11 peasants, listless and unmotivated, probably inmates he has recruited. He is noisily venting excess steam pressure and demanding tolls for passage. He probably controls a chokepoint in the dungeon, where he can use the steam to heat a metal passage or bridge to a dangerously hot temperature for anyone who refuses to pay his tolls. 

Using the Game of Telephone to Obscure RPG Lore

The classic game of telephone (also known as “whispers” in some countries) is simple; a message is transmitted from person to person by whispering. The final message is humorously different from the original. The game scales in difficulty with the number of participants, as the message degrades further as it passes through additional imperfect transmitters. This simple game can also serve as a model for how information decays over time in a TTRPG.

We don’t need a group's help to apply the telephone game logic to an RPG. We can just use a free translation service. Yes, the same “translate language X to Y to Z and then back to X” game that became popular in the internet of the late 2000s can be used as a game design tool.

Consider a simple rubric like this for mysterious ancient lore that PCs might encounter in a fantasy game.

Mostly intact: The information is current, or very well preserved. It may be slightly obscured or jumbled. Maybe someone made a mistake, or wrote it down quickly, but it is still close to the original content. Translate to at least one foreign language, then back to your native language.

Old and misremembered: A strong sense of the information is there, but specific details and pieces have been lost. The gaps probably don’t entirely obscure the core of the message, but the information is decidedly incomplete. Translate through at least two foreign languages, then back to your native language.

Ancient and obscure: Many core concepts are preserved, but some are lost, and even the intact parts have scrambled details, or can no longer be fully understood. Translate through at least three foreign languages, then back to your native language.

Inscrutable nonsense: The information’s fundamental meaning has been almost completely lost. What remains is not much better than nothing at all. Absent great effort, the information is useless gibberish. Translate through at least four foreign languages, then back to your native language.

You may have to experiment with the number of languages required to get a suitably scrambled message, hence the “at least” qualifier above. Some languages produce stronger or weaker distortions. Add more steps until it feels right.

An Example: Ó̵̢̪̤̰̍ͅp̶̡̝̈́͐̊̇͝e̶̢̤̪͚̾͜n̷̪̖̺̼̣͛͝ ̸͈̜͎̞̝̾̿S̴̥̰̤̝͑ë̴̳̲̩̺́̇́̂͑s̴̨̺̥̟̲͂̏̓͠͝a̷̭͉̝̋m̶̭͉̼̥͊́͋e̶͒ͅ 

A magical door within the dungeon only opens when the following words are recited: “wrack and ruin, who gods abhor, lord of strife, open the door.” This information is written down somewhere nearby, or partially known to someone within the dungeon, but the information is degraded. 

Mostly intact (translated from English to Amharic, then back to English): “Destruction and destruction, abomination to the gods, Lord of hatred, open the door.”

You can see that this is almost correct. In this form it might work the majority of the time, or perhaps the door opens, but only after a delay. 

Old and misremembered (translated from English to Russian to Balinese to English): “Destruction and death, hated by the gods, disobedient lords, open the door.”

This message has drifted a bit further from the original meaning. It is now less clear who is being petitioned. Lord has inadvertently been pluralized to lords. This probably won’t work as-is. The door might shudder and shift slightly, but not open until the message is closer to the original instruction.  

Ancient and obscure (translated from English to Ukrainian to Gujarati to Hakha Chin to English): “God-hated destruction and destruction open the door, warlord.”

This message retains some of the original sense; we can tell it is still about opening the door. But beyond that, it is pretty unclear. Is destruction bad or good in this context? Is the “warlord” the petitioner, or the petitionee? There are useful clues, but these words as-is aren’t going to open this magic door. 

Inscrutable nonsense (translated from English to Urdu to French to Galician to Bambara to Albanian to Javanese to English): “Destroy and annihilate, what the Lord hates, O God, reveal.”

It took a few extra translations, but this message is now even more distorted. It doesn’t even mention the door at all. It has only the faintest traces of the source message. 

What Are the PCs Supposed to Do with the DM’s Inscrutable Nonsense 

OK, that was fun. But what are the PCs supposed to do with this?

I would not obfuscate what is going on here. Strongly hint or outright say that the information has been degraded from its original form, and reversing that process will get them what they want; whether that is literal magic words, as in the above example, or something more prosaic, like clear directions to a secret location. 

The most straightforward way to allow PCs to make progress is to simply move them one step down the obfuscation ladder. The PCs could make progress through intrinsic means (e.g., a PC makes a skill roll for a history or lore ability) or through extrinsic methods (e.g., after exploring the dungeon further, they find a better version of the information that is more complete and less degraded).

Regardless, when they make progress, upgrade the message one step, for example, from “inscrutable nonsense” to “ancient and obscure.” Make it clear that the new answer is probably more accurate than the last one, even if that isn’t obvious from the degree of sense inherent in the message. Clever players may be able to cross reference the differences to try to infer the actual meaning. If they get stuck, they can always search for more answers that clarify what they’re looking for, all the way up to moving a “mostly intact” message up to a completely correct one.