Part of my mandate here at TDB is to make you fall a little in love with each and every Bestiary monster. But certain monsters can be hard to drum up
enthusiasm for—oozes in particular. Once
you start getting oozes made of gunpowder that splurt out flaming gobs of
themselves, you start to feel like you’ve hit the limit for what oozes can be.
Not so with the hag eye ooze, though—because the hag eye
ooze is a brilliant idea. I mean, of
course not all hags are going to trust their sisters or their minions with
their precious hag eye stones. What if
they lost it? What if they’re
slain? That’s a lot of trust to dole
out. Why not instead spend a little
extra time in the hag eye enchantment process cooking up a minion goopy minion
to bear the artifact? Especially one
that’s instinctively shy and stealthy in the bargain. That’s the best use for an enchanted cauldron
since boiling children and raising armies of the undead, right?
Remnants of a tribe
of sprites beg the Big Folk for help.
A slimy monstrosity has been tormenting them, oozing into their homes
and devouring them no matter how many times they relocate. Now reduced to half their number, the fey
seek salvation—and answers. The culprit
is a hag eye ooze under the control of a malicious green hag. She has been consolidating power throughout
her dismal wood; tormenting the sprites was just an enjoyable sideshow.
Adventurers make an
enemy of a hag in wintertime. The
next time they are camped out of doors, the hag sends her cold-immune ooze through
the snow to douse the adventurers’ campfire—with its flame-resistant body, if
necessary—so that they either freeze to death outright or are softened up for
the local bugbears.
Slirrup was an
ordinary hag eye ooze—until the day the alchemist it had been set to spy
upon spotted it instead. The slimy creature found itself forced into
a bottle and experimented upon for months.
Eventually, Slirrup’s creator tracked down the alchemist, slaying him.
Her wayward ooze, however, was forever changed by the experience, the
experiments having gifted it with physical power and a crude intelligence (per
the Advanced simple template). Slirrup
still follows its mistress’s commands, but is restless and resentful in the
manner of a neglected pet.
PAP #72 also
features the coven ooze, which is what happens when a hag eye ooze eats its
dead mistresses. (Answer: It grows to Large
size, gains rudimentary intelligence, and generally becomes a flesh-absorbing
monstrosity. Good times!)
One of the places G-Tour 3.5 stopped at was the Ginza district of Tokyo, which meant we also had to take in the Godzilla statue in nearby Hibiya. This was one of the first spots visited the previous year during G-Tour 3. Since the majority of tour members on G-Tour 3.5 were newbies, this was a logical sight to see. And to tell the truth, the three of us who had been here before weren’t complaining either.
Can you imagine being James Madison and overachieving, writing 29 federalist essays when you guys were only supposed to write 25 in all and then THIS ASSHOLE ALEXANDER HAMILTON WALKS UP HAVEN WRITTEN 51 FREAKIN ESSAYS
Mutants and Masterminds: Yes you can do the thing.
GURPS: Fill out these forms in triplicate.
Dungeons & Dragons 3rd Edition: Yes, but it’s really not worth it unless you are a Dream Elf with the Godblooded feat and at least five levels in the Thingomancer Prestige class from Complete Thing. Or you could just play a Wizard, they get The Thing as a 3rd level spell.
Call of Cthulu: You can do the thing, but you REALLY don’t want to.
FATE: That depends, can you bullshit the GM into believing that one of your vaguely-worded aspects supports you doing The thing?
7th Sea: Only if the thing is properly dramatic!
Shadowrun: Yes, but you’ll need a bathtub full of D6s.
Paranoia: The thing is treason.
Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition:
[I copied the above from this brilliant post, and I reblogged as text because I really felt the need to add the gif for 5e, and chat posts don’t allow gifs, dammit.]
Bitty is scared out of his mind when he climbs into bed to
skype Jack. He’s done everything he can to look calm, but he’s also wearing the
red t-shirt Jack had left behind after the kegster by accident as well as the
flannel he appropriated earlier in the year. They both still smell like Jack,
which is all he wants. He tries to relax into the soft fabrics – because Jack’s
clothes are always so soft – and then skype rings.
Bitty’s heart jumps into his throat as he answers.
“Hey,” he says managing a weak smile.
“Hey Bits,” Jack says. He looks tired. “I’m so sorry about
Breathing is difficult while Bitty tries to respond. “It’s
okay sweetheart, don’t worry about it. It’s not like you did anything.”
Under better circumstances he might have joked “except me,”
but this is not better circumstances.
“Yeah but I’m the reason we have to keep it secret,” Jack
says, and now he sounds sad, not just tired. “If you were dating someone normal
you wouldn’t have to hide your relationship, and you could bring them to
kegsters and go grab coffee with them and–”
“Are you breaking up with me?” Bitty interrupts, because he’s
about to start crying, and he doesn’t under any circumstances want to cry in
front of Jack because of Jack.
“What?” Jack asks, going still. Still like he’s trying not
to make any sudden movements to startle the dangerous predator approaching him.
“Because I’d understand if it’s too much pressure or–”
“No!” Jack shouts. He looks – he looks about as terrified as
Bitty feels. “Did you – did you think that was why I wanted to talk?”
“Kind of,” Bitty admits.
“Bits – Eric,” Jack says. “I know in a perfect world I never
have to make the choice between the NHL and you, but if I do have to? I’d pick
you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Bitty feels a foreign warmth spread through his chest,
filling him up.
“I just wish we could tell people,” Jack says. Half his arm
has disappeared from the frame and Bitty knows it’s because he’s touching the
screen approximately where Bitty’s face is. “God, Shitty’s going to feel like
such an ass once he find out.”
“For a lot of reasons, because he doesn’t actually know you’re
gay, honey,” Bitty says.
Jack frowns. “Doesn’t he know about Kenny though?”
Bitty shakes his head. “He thinks you were just jealous of
him because of his NHL career.”
Most of the time, Bitty is pretty good at ignoring or not
caring about the fact that the captain of the Vegas Aces is the only other
person who’s had sex with his boyfriend, but every so often it makes him
“I just wish we could tell him,” Jack says. “Well, and
everyone else, but.”
“Well, we’re going to tell everyone eventually right?” Bitty
asks. His nerves are back because he knows Jack really doesn’t ever want to
make the choice between Bitty and the NHL and he can delay that if they’re not
“Yeah, of course,” Jack says. “It’d be kind of weird if we
still hadn’t told anyone when we’re living together.”
Bitty knows Jack well enough to know this wasn’t actually
his way of asking Bitty to move in. It’s simply Jack knowing how he wants his
future to go, which he does sometimes. He uses inevitable or concrete
descriptions for events that really aren’t either of those things when he wants
them to be true. And Bitty living with him is one of those things.
He feels his face soften into a smile, and he touches the
screen where Jack’s face is, fighting back the well of sadness that he can’t
feel his skin.
“You look really tired, darling,” Bitty says. “We can talk
about all this later. Just…tell me about your roadie?”
Jack launches into the antics the Falcs have gotten up to
most recently, which centres around the saga of Snowy’s pre-game routine being
shattered when he forgot to pack his eyeliner and resulted in a group of very
large hockey players stalking the right shade and texture of black eyeliner
from the Sephora around the corner from their hotel.