Role-Playing not Roll Playing: Our Ladies of Sorrow

Therefore it is that Levana often communes with the powers that shake a man's heart: therefore it is that she dotes on grief. "These ladies," said I softly to myself, on seeing the ministers with whom Levana was conversing, "these are the Sorrows; and they are three in number, as the Graces are three, who dress man's life with beauty; the Parcoe are three, who weave dark arras of man's life in their mysterious loom, always with colours sad in part, sometimes angry with tragic crimson and black; the Furies are three who visit with retribution called from the other side of the grave offences that walk upon this; and once even the Muses were but three, who fit the harp, the trumpet, or the lute, to the great burdens of man's impassioned creations. These are the Sorrows, all three of whom I know."

"Levana and Our Ladies of Sorrow" - Thomas de Quincey

Thomas de Quincey wrote about Our Ladies of Sorrow in his essay, "Levana and our Ladies of Sorrow", which was part of Suspiria de Profundis. He describes the Sorrows as companions of the Roman goddess of childbirth, Levana.
De Quincey says nothing about the origin of the Sorrows. He does reveal they are sisters. Perhaps, they were once mortals who fell foul of a curse.
Our Ladies of Sorrow have appeared in films. For the Three Mothers trilogy, Dario Argento and Daria Nicolodi reimagined them as witches resident in purpose-built houses in Freiburg, New York and Rome. Separate from Argento's Three Mothers mythology, Demons 6: De Profundis (co-written by Daria Nicolodi but uncredited) features a witch by the name of Levana.
In the year of Suspiria's release, Fritz Leiber published his novel, Our Lady of Darkness. It is an urban fantasy that introduces the concept of "megapolisomancy" and features paramentals.
In Kim Newman's Dracula Cha Cha Cha, Mater Lacrymarum is a malign entity far deadlier than vampires.

Triple Goddesses

The triple goddess and goddesses that come in a set of three are common in mythology. There are the Fates of Greek Mythology, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, as well as the three-formed Hecate. The Norse had the Norns, Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld. The Celts had the war goddess, Morrígan but the triple nature is ambiguous and not well defined.
How or if the Sorrows are associated with these goddesses is left open.

Call of Cthulhu

The entry in Chaosium's Malleus Monstrorum describes Our Ladies of Sorrow as three of Nyarlathotep's Million Favoured Ones. I prefer to think of them as entities in their own right.

The Sorrows are incorporeal entities. They interact with living minds through dreams and hallucinations. To become a physical being, a Sorrow must possess a woman susceptible to her power.
Our Ladies of Sorrow presents them as a triple goddess. Together, they are Hecate. How this works is left unexplained. Perhaps the Sorrows are avatars of Hecate. Alternatively, they might combine their power to create a three-fold goddess.

Mater Lacrymarum (Mother of Tears)

Thus says the Lord: “A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more.”

Jeremiah 31:15 

Our Lady of Tears is the oldest. Her eyes are sweet and subtle. A diadem adorns her head. She carries keys that open any door to intrude on her sleepless victims.
Mater Lacrymatum is hot-blooded and passionate. She seduces mortals with a warm and friendly demeanour. It is a fragile facade, easily shattered to reveal a quick temper. An alluring smile masks  ruthless streak unmatched by many psychopaths.
Her remit is grief, loss and mourning, especially of a child.
For possession, Mater Lachrymarum targets women who are mourning a death or bemoaning a major loss.

Unique Ability

Lachrymarum's Fervour - Our Lady of Tears can incite strong passions in a person. This takes the form of highly emotional outbursts; they could be anger, sorrow, excitement. The exact nature depends on the target and the circumstances. The strong emotional state interferes with rational thinking. The keeper should increase the difficulty of all skill checks, where appropriate, while this effect is in place. The ability works automatically on willing recipients otherwise a successful opposed POW check is required. The effect lasts for the duration of the emotional outburst or, at most, for the duration of the scene or encounter.

Sample Avatar - Dr Karen FitzWilliam

Karen was never a bad person. Her fatal flaw was her compassion: she cared too much. She went to medical school, worked hard and qualified as a doctor. The ability to heal the sick brought Karen great joy and gave purpose to her life.
She was unable to detach herself emotionally from her patients. Some illnesses defy treatment. Some lives cannot be saved. She strove harder and harder to avoid the pain of failure. Sleep deprivation and overwork took their toll. Mistakes were made leading to complaints and an investigation. She denied she had a problem and rebuked all offers of help. The medical board struck her off. The former doctor FitzWilliam was devastated.
Karen blamed everyone except herself. In her head, it was a conspiracy. Seeking to hit back at the profession that had destroyed her life, she fell in with a crowd of evil people. Now, she champions alternative medicine and pseudoscience. Karen is a spokesperson for the anti-vax movement, the face of quack cures and a fierce critic of "allopathic medicine".
Karen's pain and anguish made her an easy target for Mater Lachrymarum.

A tortured soul who bartered integrity for revenge

STR 55	CON 40	SIZ 55	DEX 80	INT 80
APP 75	POW 100	EDU n/a	SAN n/a	HP 9
DB 0	Build 0	Move 8	MP 40	Luck n/a

Attacks per round: 1
Armour: none
Weapon Skills: all base
Skills: Art/Craft (Writing Blogs) 50%, Charm 70%, Computer Use 40%, Cthulhu Mythos 90%, First Aid 90%, Medicine 80%, Pseudoscience (Quackery) 65%, Science (Biology) 40%, Science (Chemistry) 30%, Science (Pharmacy) 30%
Languages: English 80%
Suggested Spells: Cause/Cure Blindness, Cause/Cure Disease, Cloud Memory, Contact Mater Suspiriorum (no POW cost), Contact Mater Tenebrarum (no POW cost), Grasp of Tenebrarum, Shrivelling, Whither. She prefers spells that cause distress to her enemies and heals her allies.
Notes: Karen is not a bad person at heart. She does want to help the sick but she has lost her grasp of reality. Her hatred of the medical industry has blinded her to the truth. She is oblivious to the harm inflicted by her actions.

Mater Suspiriorum (Mother of Sighs)

Judah has gone into exile under affliction and, under harsh servitude, she dwells among the nations, but she has found no rest. All her pursuers have overtaken her in the midst of distress.

Lamentations 1:3 

Our Lady of Sighs is the middle sister. Those who gaze upon her true face see a haunted woman. Her eyes betray lost dreams and a forlorn delirium. She wears a dilapidated turban that trails to the floor.
Mater Suspiriorum exercises emotional restraint. She neither weeps nor groans but sighs inaudibly.
She is associated with the outcast, the prisoner and the enslaved. Where hope is lost, Our Lady of Sighs is there. She is the guilt that haunts survivors. Of the three sisters, she is the meekest.
For possession, Mater Suspiriorum targets women who feel alienated or dispossessed.

Unique Ability

Blessing of Suspiriorum - Mater Suspiriorum is not without empathy. She can relieve suffering but at a cost. She offers affection to the target, perhaps a kiss on the forehead, a gentle caress or a hug. Painful memories are erased from the target who finds peace. It is, alas, short-lived. The victim dies shortly afterwards, seemingly of natural causes. It works automatically against a willing person, otherwise, Mater Suspiriorum must succeed at an opposed POW check.

Sample Avatar - Yana Joseph

She was born Yana Al-Yousif in Syria. Her parents arranged a marriage to an abusive and unfaithful husband. She made of show of mourning his death but felt no sorrow.
Yana fled her homeland to escape the violence that had widowed her. She ended up in a foreign country, alone, afraid and unable to understand the language. She adjusted to her new existence. In the refugee camp, she enjoyed an improved quality of life. She ate regularly. She took daily language lessons. Most importantly, she was free from the threat of violence. She changed her name to fit in better and to divorce herself from her Syrian origins.
One day, a group of uniformed men took Yana and many other refugees away. After a long journey, they arrived at their destination. Kind people gave the refugees proper homes and jobs.
The abuse started soon after. It escalated from insults to threats and then to violence. Yana despaired and opened her heart to the Mother of Sighs.
By day, Yana helps refugees adjust to their new lives. They make a rich source of magic points. She works with the police, aiding their investigations into hate crimes. By night, she terrorises the dreams of those who have offended her.

One lost soul among many

STR 60	CON 60	SIZ 50	DEX 60	INT 55
APP 40	POW 150	EDU n/a	SAN n/a	HP 11
DB 0	Build 0	Move 8	MP 30	Luck n/a

Attacks per round: 1
Armour: none
Weapon Skills: all base
Skills: Bureaucracy (specifically related to immigration and naturalisation) 60%, Charm 60%, Fast Talk 60%, Library Use 65%,
Languages: Syrian 80%, English 40%, French 45%
Suggested Spells: Cloud Memory, Contact Mater Lachrymarum (no POW cost), Contact Mater Tenebrarum (no POW cost), Dominate, Enthral Victim, Evil Eye, Implant Fear, Implant Suggestion, Mater Suspirium's Embrace, Mental Suggestion, Mesmerise, Mind Blast, Nightmare, Send Dreams. She prefers spells that allow her to control others or enfeeble them.  
Notes: Yana is known as a compassionate and supportive person. People do complain that they feel tired, drained, after spending time with her.

Mater Tenebrarum (Mother of Darkness)

And this house will become a heap of ruins; everyone who passes by will be astonished and hiss and say, 'Why has the LORD done thus to this land and to this house?

1 Kings 9:8

Our Lady of Darkness is the youngest and most terrible of the three. She is a tall woman, never stooping to a shorter person's level. She wears a veil to mask her intense eyes.
She is the most rebellious of the three. Mater Tenebrarum delights in blasphemy and standing up to authority. Unlike her sisters, she carries no keys so she must find other ways to encroach in the homes of her prey. Her power is most effective against psychologically damaged people. She is the voice in the heads of the clinically depressed, schizophrenics and the paranoid.
For possession, Mater Tenebrarum targets psychopaths, narcissists and other women with psychological issues.
Thomas de Quincey wrote a whole book about her, The Kingdom of Darkness. He burnt it with many of his other papers. It is now lost.

Unique Ability

Heart of Darkness - Mater Tenebrarum seeks to find a person's weaknesses, phobias and character flaws so she can exploit them. She must touch the skin of her target and make an opposed POW check. If she succeeds, she gains a vague picture of the target's obsessions, addictions and weaknesses. For example, she may learn that an important politician has a cocaine habit but not where it is obtained, how much he uses or the level of his dependence etc.

Sample Avatar - Michelle Constance Buckingham

Michelle was an only child. Her mother and father put her under enormous pressure to succeed. Michelle's wishes came a poor second to the ambitions of her parents. It was always "mother" and "father", never "mum" and "dad". Her name, "Michelle", was never shortened. Affection was a rare commodity in the Buckingham home.
Michelle studied law, not out of desire, but due to parental pressure. She did well but she failed to excel. It was not good enough. It was never good enough. During the holidays, when her friends were out having fun, she was cloistered away with her books. Her mother never allowed Michelle a boyfriend.
The Michelle Buckingham who graduated was a cold and heartless woman. She had many job interviews but poor social skills held her back. Michelle's difficulties enraged her parents. After a short period of counselling, she landed a junior position with a law firm. Naturally, it was not good enough but it was a start. Michelle was happy to be working.
She made a name for herself when she successfully prosecuted her boss in a sexual harassment case. Winning was not enough; she destroyed the man. Michelle's ruthlessness got her noticed. She had her choice of job offers.
Mater Tenebrarum took notice. Michelle invited the Mother of Darkness into her heart.
Perhaps her most heinous act was to have both of her parents committed. The only contact she has now is the nightmares she sends to them.

A ruthless lawyer lacking a soul

STR 45	CON 60	SIZ 60	DEX 40	INT 75
APP 50	POW 200	EDU n/a	SAN n/a	HP 12
DB 0	Build 0	Move 8	MP 40	Luck n/a

Attacks per round: 1
Armour: none
Weapon Skills: all base
Skills: Accountancy 40%, Art/Craft (Draughting Contracts) 75%, Computer Use 60%, Fast Talk 60%, Law 90%, Library Use 80%, Persuade 80%, Psychology 75%
Languages: English 80%, French 65%, German 60%, Italian 60%
Suggested Spells: Cloud Memory, Contact Mater Lachrymarum (no POW cost), Contact Mater Suspiriorum (no POW cost), Dampen Light, Dominate, Enthral Victim, Evil Eye, Implant Fear, Implant Suggestion, Mental Suggestion, Mesmerise, Mind Blast, Nightmare, Send Dreams, Words of Power and possibly others. She prefers spells that allow her to control or attack others psychologically rather than physically.
Notes: Michelle is unable to emote and, therefore, any skill checks in situations requiring the understanding of a human being's emotional state or for her to empathise either fail automatically or are made with a penalty die.

Powers and Abilities

Dreams - all three sisters can invade the dreams of sleeping mortals. They implant nightmares, the nature of which depends on the victim and to a lesser extent the nature of the Mother. SAN losses are possible for the worst nightmares. If a Sorrow chooses to respond to a Contact spell, she may do so in a dream or more likely a nightmare.

Avatars - to physically interact with the real world, a Sorrow must possess a vulnerable woman and supplant her personality. The avatar ages at the normal rate, therefore, a supply of replacements is needed if the Mother is to stay active in one place. The abilities and spells of individual avatars vary. The mechanism of possession is left undefined and should be defined by narrative requirements.

Power Bases - an avatar can create a power base in a building or other well-defined site. She uses it to build up a reservoir of magic points. This resource is available to her when she is in the building or on-site. Residents may complain of bad dreams, ghosts and sleep paralysis. An avatar can leave her power base but she loses connection with it and must rely on her personal magic points. She regains access to the building's magic points after she returns.

Night Hags and Hag Attacks - a night hag is a non-corporeal entity that a Sorrow sends to a sleeping person. Traditionally, the night hag appears as an old woman. In reality, the night hag can appear as anything. If the Sorrow considers the victim to be a threat, she chooses a form that causes maximum distress to the victim. SAN loss is a possibility.
The Sorrows favour the hag attack as a method for draining magic points from their victims. A typical drain is 1D6 points. No magic points are regained that night and the sleeper wakes feeling tired and unrefreshed. The builds up her reservoirs of magic points by harvesting them this way. She can also use them to top up her personal supply.

Ghosts and Hauntings - a Sorrow can manifest as a ghost or apparition in both the real world and in a dream. She can appear in her true form or as any of her avatars, past or present. The response to a Contact spell may be in the form of a ghost. Many reported hauntings may, in reality, be due to activities of the Three Mothers. Not being true ghosts these forms are immune to Command Ghost and similar spells.

Spells

An avatar can have as many spells as deemed appropriate by the narrative. The Sorrow only imbues an avatar with a fraction of her power. There is no reason to assume that they should be consistent in their spell lists.

Call Spells - It is unusual for the leader of a Coven worshipping a Sorrow to know a Call spell. The spell only works if the caster is female. If the spell succeeds, the nearest avatar is drawn to the caster and her congregation. They had better hope the called Mother is not in a bad mood. Call spells automatically succeed if cast within the confine's of an avatar's power base but the avatar cannot be Dismissed.

Call Mater Lachrymarum - Our Lady of Tears bestows her Call spell so that the coven can call her a gathering of the cult. She then feeds on them to heal an injured avatar. She drains hit points, magic points or attributes, randomly from her cultists, until she is fully restored. She may kill the caster to prevent her from Calling her again.

Call Mater Suspiriorum - Our Lady of Sighs is the least dangerous Mother to Call. She may take the caster as a new avatar. It is also possible that Mater Suspiriorum may remove the knowledge of this spell from the caster's memory. A Called avatar syphons magic points from the members, starting with the ones with the lowest POW, to replenish her own supply or to add to her reservoir.

Call Mater Tenebrarum - Our Lady of Darkness is the most dangerous Mother to Call. She does not take kindly to her minions summoning her. If it suits her needs, she takes the caster as a new avatar. If the rest of the coven survives is a matter of Mater Tenebrarum's whim or whether she considers it useful.

Contact Spells - this class of spell is more common than the Call spells in cults worshipping the Three Mothers. The caster should have a very good reason for wanting to Contact a Sorrow. None is known for her tolerance or her forgiving nature. Contact spells only work for female casters or are twice as difficult for males.

Contact Mater Lachrymarum - if the spell is successful, the Mother of Tears contacts the caster when she is in place related to death, for example, a morgue, cemetery or a place where someone recently died. If the caster displeases Mater Lachrymarum, she either permanently blinds or kills her.

Contact Mater Suspirorum - if the spell is successful, the Mother of Sighs contacts the caster when she is alone. If the caster displeases Mater Suspirorum, she either inflicts memory loss or a permanent insanity on her.

Contact Mater Tenebrarum - if the spell is successful, the Mother of Darkness contacts the caster when she is in darkness, most probably at night but possibly in a darkened room. If the Caster displeases Mater Tenebrarum, she suffers a cruel and unusual punishment.

Grasp of Tenebrarum - similar to Grasp of Cthulhu but without the strength drain.

Mater Suspiriorum's Embrace - the caster embraces and kisses a willing victim. The victim loses 1d10 points permanently from each round. The body shrivels until it is little more than skeletal remains. The process is not painful. The victim experiences a feeling of bliss as the burden of life slips away. A person witnessing this loses 1D2/2D4.

Megapolisomantic Building - this spell is only known from the rare book Megapolisomancy: A New Science of Cities. It details the method to construct a building that accumulates magical energy in large cities. Long term magic effects draw on this energy to power them. In game terms, magic points are syphoned from persons going about their business. A fraction of persons in the vicinity lose a magic point, which goes into the building's supply. These stored magic points power autonomous spells with continuous effects. This removes the need to recast a spell. The area of effect of the spell is restricted to line of sight of the enchanted building. Spells cannot be used that have a one-off effect, such as Call, Contact, Enchant and Summon spells, or ones that require a mind or the caster to be involved, such as Dominate, Mental Suggestion or Send Dreams. If the spell has material components, they must not be consumed by the spell and be incorporated into the building somehow.
For example, a megapolisomancer wishes to curse an individual. To do this he casts Evil Eye on his victim but ties the spell in with the building, paying the normal cost of the spell. Henceforth, after coming within line of sight of the building, the individual suffers the effects of the Evil Eye.
Casting this ritualistic spell is a long and arduous process. The building is specifically designed and carefully placed. Its construction must be closely supervised to ensure no flaws creep into the design. Finally, the caster completes the enchantment sacrificing 25 POW and 4D6 magic points in one final ritual. If the magic point expenditure manifests as hit points, the loss is permanent and results in an indefinite insanity. Sanity point loss is equal to the number of magic and hit points lost.
Optionally, the building may attract paramentals or other Mythos creatures.


Tears of Death - the caster concentrates on a victim within line of sight for two rounds. After expending 2 magic points, the caster makes an opposed POW check. If successful, the spell lasts for 1 round for each 2 magic points above the two already spent, inflicting 1D3 damage. The victim sobs uncontrollably crying tears of blood. Each time a damage roll inflicts the full 3 points there is a 10% chance of permanent blindness in one eye.

Grasp of Tenebrarum, Mater Suspiriorum's Embrace and Tears of Death originally appeared in Our Ladies of Sorrow.

Paramentals

From his window there thrust itself a pale brown thing that wildly waved its long, uplifted arms at him. While low between them, he could see a face stretched towards him a mask as narrow as a ferret's, pale brown, utterly blank triangle, two points above that might mean eyes or ears, and one ending below a tapered chin... no snout... no, very short trunk-a questing mouth that looked as if it were sucking for marrow.

Our Lady of Darkness - Fritz Leiber

Paramentals are spirits that haunt cities. Whether cities create these creatures or they are drawn to them is unknown. When they manifest, they create corporeal bodies from materials that happen to be available.
They are malevolent creatures described as "midway in nature between the atomic bomb and the archetypes of the collective conscious."
How, or indeed if, they are linked to Our Ladies of Sorrow is unknown.

STR:3D6+6
CON:3D6+6
SIZ: 2D6+6
INT: 2D6+6
POW: 3D6+6
DEX:2D6+6

Move: 8
Hit Points:
Attacks per round: 1
Armour: non-magical attacks inflict minimum damage
Attacks: physical attacks (if any) depend on the physical form. Sanity attack, see below.
Habitat: large cities
Sanity Loss: none or up to 0/1D6 depending appearance and if it is recognised as a supernatural creature

Sanity Attack - paramentals attack the sanity of mortals. A successful opposed POW check causes the target to lose 1D10 sanity points. The normal temporary insanity rules apply. The re-appearance of a paramental that inflicted a temporary insanity onto a character may cause a relapse or a bad episode of that insanity.

Tome

At any particular time in history there have always been one or two cities of monstrous size-viz., Babel or Babylon, Ur-Lhassa, Nineveh, Rome, Samarkand, Tenochtitlan, Peking-but we live in the Megapolitan (or Necropolitan) Age, when such disastrous blights are manifold and threaten co conjoin and enshroud the world with funebral yet multipotent city-stuff.

Megapolicy: A New Science of Cities - Thibaut de Castries

Megapolisomancy: A New Science of Cities

Description: A dirty grey, short print run book
Language: English
Date: ca. 1890
Author: Thibaut de Castries
Sanity Loss: 1D4
Cthulhu Mythos: 0
Mythos Rating: 0%
Study:1 week to read/3d4 hours to skim
Benefits: skill checks in Art/Craft (Architecture) and Occult
Spell: Megapolisomantic Building
The book is a treatise on the construction and use of buildings in cities to create and perpetuate magical effects. In game terms, a properly prepared building stores accumulated magic points and uses them to power a continuous or long term effect, for example, a curse. See the spell Megapolisomantic Building, above, for more details.
In the last years of his life, Thibaut de Castries hunted down and destroyed as many copies of his book as he could find.

References

Literature

"Levana and our Ladies of Sorrow" - Thomas de Quincey from his Suspiria de Profundis
Dracula Cha Cha Cha - Kim Newman (a.k.a Judgement of Tears)
Our Lady of Darkness - Fritz Leiber

Roleplaying

Malleus Monstrorum specifically, the entry regarding Our Ladies of Sorrow
Our Ladies of Sorrow - Kevin Ross

Films

Suspiria (2018) most closely matches the vision of Our Ladies of Sorrow presented in this post. In the other films, they are witches rather than supernatural entities. For such powerful and feared beings, they were surprisingly easy to kill.

Suspiria (1977)
Inferno (1980)
Demons 6: De Profundis (1989) (a.k.a. The Black Cat a.k.a. Dead Eyes)
Mother of Tears: The Third Mother (2007)
Suspiria (2018)

Web Links

Wikipedia's entry on Suspiria de Profundis
Goodread's entry on Suspiria de Profundis
Goodread's entry on Dracula Cha Cha Cha
Goodread's entry on Our Lady of Darkness
Wikipedia's entry on sleep paralysis
Wikipedia's entry on the night hag

Role-Playing not Roll Playing: Cats of Catthulhu

Cats of Catthulhu is a simple role-playing game created by Joel Sparks. Originally called Call of Catthulhu, it is, unsurprisingly, a Cthulhu-based game with feline player characters. I consider this to be the best cat-themed RPG.

If you are unfamiliar with the game, it is available on Drivethru. On social media, there is a presence on Facebook and Twitter. The books have entries on Goodreads, too.


Cats of Catthulhu is a rules-light game. To determine success or failure, roll two cat dice (available in the deluxe box set and sold separately). A "happy cat" is a positive result for the cats. A "sad cat" is bad news. If you lack cat dice you can make do with rolling regular d6s. A "happy cat" result is 3-6 and a "sad cat" 1-2. The "right cat for the job" gains an automatic "happy cat" result. Dice rolls are always made from the point of view of cats, even when making skill checks for humans and other animals.

The GM in this game is called the "Cat Herder". When run correctly, this is all too apt!

The game intrigued me. I tried it at a couple of conventions but I found both games lacking. It felt like we were normal characters with cat-like restrictions rather than actual player cats. Both games failed to generate the right atmosphere.


By observing the behaviour of cats, I realised how this game should be played. Humans and cats see and interact with the world in different ways. The human world is mysterious, alien and unknowable to felines. It should be presented and described to the players as such. For example, cats have no understanding of letters, bills and junk mail; they are merely bits of paper delivered by another human through the front door. It is puzzling to cats when humans get upset when they bring dead mice home. We must not forget the collection of curious objects around the house; some of them break when they fall and hit the ground. If humans get so upset when things fall and break, why do they put them in places where they are easily knocked off?

Something as mundane is a group of people sitting down for a chat and sharing a hot beverage is very odd and mysterious behaviour from the point of view of a pet cat. Rather describing this scene as...

"You see your pet human walk into the living room with a tray carrying cups of tea and coffee. Her guests all take one and they settle into their weekly gossip."

Much better...

"Your female pet human emerges from the food preparation room. She carries a tray holding cups of the foul, brown drink much beloved by humans. She places the tray on the table. Her entourage converges. Each takes a cup. The human drinking ritual begins."

I took this approach with my scenario, "The New Lodger". I have taken it to several conventions here in the UK. Each time I have run it, the players have got into character as cats and found ways to indulge in stereotypical feline behaviour, usually with hilarious consequences:

"My human is having one of those weird drinking rituals? I'll teach her to waste cream and not give me any. Just as she is walking in with the tray of drinks, I'll get underfoot and try to make her lose her footing."

There is no way of knowing what names, if any, cats use for themselves. Regardless, there would be no way of writing them down or for a human player to be able to use them. When creating cat characters, I give normal pet cat names to them.

When it comes to naming human characters, I take a different approach. Humans and cats are completely different creatures; there is no way for the two species to communicate, meaningfully.  To emphasise this, I do not give formal names to human characters. Instead, I use meaningful labels that a cat might understand. For example, "Felix' female human", the "man who puts pieces of paper through the door", the "new lodger", etc.


In summary, strive to describe everything, no matter how mundane, as you might expect a cat to understand it. The cats consider their owners' homes to be their territory. Describe it as such. How does the house cat feel, when the female human of the house invites round her entourage of female humans round for the drinking ritual?

Finally, what do our cat heroes make of Amazon deliveries?

The senior twofootologist called the meeting to order. He sat firmly upright to enforce his dominance over the three cats who served under him.
"It has come to light that other humans are visiting our territories. They do this when our humans are absent. They bring brown boxes with black markings on them. They leave these boxes behind in a neighbouring territory. Our humans then collect these boxes later. We have no clue what this practice is, why they do it or what it means. Cats, go out and find out more about this mysterious human behaviour." 

Science Fiction not Sci-Fi: The Great Filter and the Great Silence

I have had some thoughts regarding the Great Filter and the Great Silence. Before we get into this, some definitions and background information. 

Great Filter - On Earth, life got started, evolved and produced an intelligent animal that created a planet-spanning civilisation. So far, we have not detected another example of this. It is surmised that there are filters that life must survive to flourish. The first is getting started in the first place. Once we have single-celled organisms, we need to jump to multi-celled. We then need to evolve intelligence and create a technological civilisation. The Great Filter is that which prevents civilisations from colonising the Galaxy. The big question is, where is the Great Filter? Is it before us, behind us or are we in its midst? 

Link to Wikipedia's entry on the Great Filter. 

Great Silence - when it comes to extraterrestrial civilisations, the cosmos is silent. There is a complete lack of evidence for the existence of an extraterrestrial civilisation. The famous (or perhaps infamous) Drake equation can be used to estimate how many alien civilisations might be out there. Depending on what numbers one puts into the equation, the number of potential civilisations could be high. Our planet is a relative latecomer to the Galactic stage; there has been more than enough time for aliens to evolve a civilisation detectable from space. This begs the question, where are they?

Links to Wikipedia's entries on the Fermi Paradox and the Drake Equation.

Where are They?

Broadly speaking, there are two realistic possibilities to explain the Great Silence. Firstly, the aliens are there but we are too primitive to be able to detect them. Secondly, there are no aliens, therefore, something is wiping them out. If a phenomenon is exterminating life before it can colonise the Galaxy, what is it? Should we be concerned?

Evolutionary Game Theory

Consider a population of beings in an advanced civilisation in rather simplistic terms: "cooperators" and "belligerents". Cooperators share food and resources, while belligerents are aggressive, stealing and selfishly gather, perhaps hoard, these things for themselves.

Game theory, when applied to evolution, states that there will be a stable ratio of these two types to maintain the status quo. A society of all cooperators is unstable because the appearance of very few belligerents can cause havoc and devastate the population. Conversely, having too many belligerents is also unstable for obvious reasons.

Human populations are comprised of approximately 1% psychopaths and 99% non-psychopaths. Accordingly, we must conclude this is a stable ratio. However, we have built a technological civilisation where the impact of one psychopath can, and does, have a grossly disproportionate effect on the whole planet. 

It is safe to assume that Richard the Lionheart, Julius Caesar and Genghis Khan were psychopaths. King Richard bankrupted England to wage a bloody war in the Middle East. Julius Caesar committed genocide in Gaul to further his career. Genghis Khan slaughtered millions in his quest to carve out a Mongolian empire. These men were devastating but there was no danger of human extinction. 

We had a stable human population but not any more. Now, we have psychopaths who can overcome that stability. Imagine if Hitler had had a nuclear arsenal; he could have made the planet burn, not just his adopted Fatherland, as defeat consumed the Third Reich. Today, we have the likes of Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin who hold massive sway over what happens not just to their countries but to the whole planet.

If we survive the twenty first century's rise of fascism, how long before the world forgets about "Never Again!", again? What happens when Hitler 3.0 rises to wreak havoc on our global civilisation? I never expected to see the return of fascism in my lifetime. The fact that it has happened shows how easy it is for us to fall. All it takes is the right psychopath in the right circumstances and history repeats itself, again.

Link to Wikipedia's entry on Evolutionary Game Theory.

The Great Filter?

So, I hypothesize that the Great Filter is (in human terms) the psychopath who goes too far. If the means exist for a civilisation to end itself, then sooner or later, someone will come along who is crazy or shortsighted enough to make it happen. Threats exist in many forms. The most obvious is a thermonuclear war in a mutually assured destruction scenario. Other scenarios are possible, maybe even more probable. The biggest threat currently facing the human species is an environmental one. Will our angry youth be able to turn the tide against those pushing the profits-before-planet agenda?

Anti-science movements are infecting the planet like a pathogenic virus. Putin's Internet trolls have weaponised pseudoscience to attack the West. Far-Right groups are using data mined from social media to manipulate populations. We have seen the return of measles and outbreaks of other diseases once tamed by vaccines. Pseudo- and tobacco science is keeping climate change denial very much alive. A famous entrepreneur went to a quack to seek treatment for terminal cancer. Activists have caused malnutrition because of ideological objections to a method of creating new species. The list goes on. I have not even mentioned religious extremism.

We have an ailing civilisation. We have psychopaths in positions of power. These men have access to resources that could devastate the planet. They are pursuing policies that are detrimental to the environment. Will we survive this fraught period in our history?

Even if we do make it to the stars, is there any guarantee that our colonies can avoid repeating the same mistakes? I don't see how they can.

Bartholomew Carlisle

Bartholomew Carlisle

His parents had lumbered him with the name Bartholomew but he became known as Bart to friends and family. The name Bartholomew was reserved for Sunday mornings at church or those times when he was in trouble. Even now as a young man, his mother’s shrill voice screeching, “Bartholomew” sent shivers down his spine.

Such concerns were now behind him. The time had come in his life to learn to be a man. What this learning would be was not yet revealed to him. All he know was that he would be joining his cousin Jake in Brimstone.

Before making the ride to the place, Bart had asked around about his destination. He was giving up a life of relative ease on his Pa’s ranch to learn how to be a man in a god-forsaken shit hole. He already felt bitter.

This was easily the farthest he had ever ridden and the farthest he had been from home. He did not feel safe riding alone. He could see a forest to his north and he had encountered a train line. Was there a train stop at Brimstone? His Pa had told him to find his own way. A man cannot hang off of his Ma’s skirts all his life he had told him. If he had known about the train, he would have ridden that into town but here he was, just him on his horse with money enough to pay his way during the journey. He hoped that his relatives would see him all right when he got there.

He had been assured by his Pa, though his Ma still looked worried, that no one would dare touch a Carlisle out on the road. This did little to reduce his anxiety.

He was saddle sore. He was hungry and thirsty but most of all he missed his warm comfortable bed. Life on the road was tough, a lot tougher than he had expected. He had slept rough last night or rather lain on the ground without getting much sleep. This long ride had taken its toll.

It was getting late and thoughts of finding somewhere to stop for the night were foremost in his mind. He had ridden to the crest of a hill and was making his way down the other side when he spied a woman perched on a gate.

His interest piqued, he increased his pace to a trot. She wore a wide-brimmed hat that partly covered her long lightly-coloured hair. She certainly was a beaut. Her skin was pale, probably why she wore the hat to protect it from the sun.

“Good evening, stranger,” she said. Her accent was strange. it was unlike other people he had heard speaking in these parts. It occurred to him that she might  European.

“What do they call you?”

He froze. He did not want to say “Bartholomew”. That sounded too much like Sunday morning church. As for “Bart” that sounded too much like a child's name. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Bartram, ma’am,” he tugged on the brim of his bowler, “they call me Bartram, ma’am.”

“Bartram is it?” she said. There was mischief in her voice. “You are not sounding sure.”

“Caught me unawares is all,” he said, hoping to redeem himself, “don’t expect to see no comely lass out here.”

She laughed. He could not tell whether she was genuinely amused or mocking him. “You look road-weary, Bartram. We take in strangers who need a hot meal and a warm bed.” She lifted her hat slightly giving Bartram a better view of her face. She truly was a comely wench.

“I could certainly use a hot meal and a warm bed. Sleeping on the ground ain’t no fun for nobody.”

“Well, you had better come in then.” She jumped down from the gate and opened it. “Follow me, our house is this way.”

It was a short ride along a well-worn path to… he had not asked her her name… to the young woman’s house. “Say, ma’am. Mighty rude of me. Didn’t ask you your name.”

“Ingrid.”

“Ingrid,” he echoed. He could not recall meeting anyone called Ingrid before. It must be European.

“I’ll stable your horse round the back. You go in the front door. You will meet my brother Jasper. Tell him I sent you.”

Bartram dismounted and passed control of his horse over to Ingrid. He allowed himself one last look at her as she led the horse away. He believed there was much he could learn about being about a man right there.

He walked up to the front door. There was a sign there: “Welcome to Cherryvale.” He had expected a larger house, not this careworn one-storey building. Still, a roof was a roof. He had slept in worse places. He inched the door open. Not wishing to alarm anyone inside, he called out, “Jasper?” He entered the building and called out the name again. A young man appeared from behind a curtain.

“Who are you?” He asked in an accent similar to Ingrid’s.

“Bartram, sir, your sister is seeing to my horse and said I should come straight in.”

“Paying customer!” the man said in delight. “Business has been slow of late. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something?”

“Coffee,” replied Bartram. He would have preferred a whiskey but thought it better to wait until after he had eaten. These folks seemed pleasant enough but he did not know them.

“Coffee it is.” Jasper disappeared behind the curtain.

Bartram remained standing and looked around the room. It was very basic. There was a table with some chairs around it. No pictures on the walls. The floor was planks of wood laid onto the ground. He could probably lift them without any difficulty.

Jasper soon returned with a steel mug and a steaming pot of coffee. He poured out a cup. “Here, wash away the dust from the road. Not taking the weight off?”

“Thanks, erm, no. Standing for a while. Been sat in the saddle for a bit too long.” Bartram said while scratching his behind. “Not used to it.”

“Suit yourself, sir. Ingrid will cook you up some supper. Perhaps we can have a chinwag later. You can tell us about where you're from. We have some liquor from the old country.”

“Old country?” asked Bartram, curious about their origins and their accents.

“You do not recognise my accent, no?”

Bartram shook his head.

“Vee are originally from zee new German Empire,” he said, overemphasising his German accent.

“Interesting,” Bartram lied. Now he knew what the accent was, he had lost interest. He wondered where Ingrid was. “Where will I be sleeping?” He looked round in the room to emphasise his question.

“Don’t worry, Ingrid will make up a bed for you.”

Bartram took a large swig of coffee. It sure felt good in his mouth. He topped up his mug. He was feeling better already and lustful thoughts of Ingrid were forming in his mind.

“So where you headed?”

“I am going into Brimstone. I was told to find the saloon, Delilah’s…”

“Ah yes, a good place. Terrible coffee and worse beer. Don’t drink the beer. The women, good women! If you want the best fuck, ask for Charlotte. She will cost you ten dollars, though not as pretty as Ingrid, no?” He winked at Bartram. “If you want a cheap fuck, go to Gentleman Jim in Pigtown. His Chinks are not much better than animals but they are young and cheap but they smell of pigs.”

“So where is your sis…” Bartram stopped himself, “Ingrid?”

“Don’t worry, she will be back shortly. She will be seeing to Mother and Father. They are both very old and speak little English.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You like the look of my sister?”

“Oh yes,” said Bartram, unaware that he was grinning like an idiot. “She’s a mighty fine woman.”

# # #

“You are our guest so you get the place of honour at the head of the table,” said Ingrid. “Sit down here and I will bring the food.”

Bartram could smell the stew. His mouth was watering and his belly growled in anticipation. He rubbed his hands together.

Ingrid disappeared behind him through the curtain and returned with the three bowls of steaming stew. “We cannot get good beer here...” said Ingrid.

“The beer in the saloon is terrible,” confirmed Jasper.

“…but we do have some sarsaparilla.” She pronounced the word awkwardly, her foreign tongue having difficulty navigating its syllables. “We have real drink after we have eaten.”

“Sounds good to me!” Said Bartram. Indoors, Ingrid did not quite have the attractive glow she had had when he first saw her perched on the gate. Perhaps it was the light in the house but her skin seemed a little grey and her blue eyes seemed tired. They were a poor family who had to do all of the work on their holding themselves. They obviously could not afford to pay farm hands to do the work for them. It made him glad to be born into a well-off family.

“Jasper,” said Ingrid as she sat down to her meal, “you wanna get the drink?”

“What?” said Jasper, sounding surprised, “oh yes. I know where it is.” He got up and disappeared behind the curtain.

Bartram was alone with Ingrid. “Jasper says you will be making up a bed for me?”

“Yes, we can put you up in here, or you can take one of our beds. I can sleep in the barn.”

“In the barn?” Said Bartram, with false courtesy. “It is not right a fine looking woman such as yourself should end up in a barn.”

“Oh, I am used to it,” she replied, with a teasing smile. “This is only a small house and we must make do.” She leaned closer. “It is not all bad. Father cannot hear what goes on in there.” She winked.

Jasper returned with the sarsaparilla. He passed out a tin mug each to Bartram, Ingrid and himself. He pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured some out for everyone. He raised his mug and said, “Your good health!” Bartram did not notice. He attention was fixed on Ingrid who was curling a strand of blonde hair with her left hand. She stared back at him. Things were going to happen in the barn tonight!

“You finish up your stew, Bartram,” said Ingrid, “here use this bread to mop it up.”

“I will go for the kirschwasser,” said Jasper, “you will like.”

Bartram took up a piece of bread to sop up the last of the stew. It really was delicious. He stuffed the bread into his mouth and looked across the table at Ingrid who was also finishing off her food. His thoughts turned to what he had planned later in the barn.

The sharp pain to the back of the head took him completely by surprise. His vision went blurred and his world turned. He tried to grasp the table to correct his balance but he misjudged it and full to the floor. He reached up to where he had been hit. There was blood on his hand. He looked up and was vaguely aware of Jasper stood over him. There was something in his hand. It looked like a hammer.

# # #

When he came to, Bartram had a splitting headache. He was shackled. The room was dark. There was the taste of blood in his mouth.

It took a short while but awareness of his current situation coalesced. Jasper had attacked him with a hammer. So much for no one daring to attack a Carlisle!

He tested the shackles but they were heavy and firm. There was no hope of breaking free. So he just sat there and looked around in the gloom. There was precious little light but his eyes adjusted. He was in a small room. The windows were painted over. There was a door. It was in the opposite wall from the one where he was shackled.

He sat there in the dark, alone. He had no means of judging how much time had passed. All he had were his thoughts. What was these people’s motive? Did they know he was a Carlisle and were holding him for ransom? Now that he thought about it, he could not recall telling these people his family name. Perhaps, they did not who he was and were intent on killing and robbing him. That did not make sense if that was the plan why tie him up in this room?

He settled and made himself comfortable as best he could and closed his eyes. Chances are he would need his wits about him if the opportunity to escape presented itself.

He tried to nod off but getting to sleep locked in a room with a hard dirt floor, while wearing heavy manacles, was easier said than done. The fear that gripped his heart refused to let him nod off.

There was no way of knowing how much later it was when the door finally opened. Stood on the doorway was the silhouette of a man. It did not look like Jasper. Reason suggested it must be his father.

He approached Bartram and stood over him. The man shouted down in German. He sounded angry. Bartram could not understand a word but the emotion was clear enough.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.

The man kicked Bartram’s legs. Bartram responded by retreating up against the wall and curling up into a ball. The blow hurt his legs but also sent paroxysms of pain into the back of his head.

“Why are you doing this?”

The response was a short burst of German. The man bent down, grabbed Bartram by his jacket and hoisted him into the air with worrying ease.

Bartram screamed in shock and fear. “Put me down! Help me, someone! Put me down.”

The man obeyed by hurling Bartram back to the floor, knocking the wind out of him. A sharp pain ran through his head. His whole body sent messages of pain that his brain struggled to process in any meaningful way.

The attacker bent down again and ripped open Bartram shirt exposing his chest.

“Dear Lord, no!” Bartram exclaimed, fearful now that this man meant to rape him.

There was a short burst of movement and an even shorter glint of light. Then there was pain across Bartram’s chest and he could feel it was wet. The man bent over him and lapped at the wound.

Bartram screamed until his voice was hoarse and then screamed some more.

# # #

The door opened and an angry person burst into the room. The light was bright and painful. Bartram’s tortured body tried to react to this intrusion but his ordeal had taken its toll.

He blinked as he tried to get used to the light. There was a male figure stood there. Not his abuser, he recognised Jasper.

“Why didn’t you tell us you are a Carlisle, you stupid ass?” He kicked Bartram to punctuate his question. The pain was inconsequential.

“What?” Speaking was an effort through his parched throat.

“Bartholomew goddamned Carlisle!” Jasper hurled the words at Bartram in barbed accusation.

“Never asked.” Bartram was getting accustomed to the light and he could see Jasper more clearly now. Behind the man he could just make out Ingrid, waiting outside.

Jasper kicked him again. “Who knows you are coming? Who is expecting you?” The German accent was stronger now.

“Water.”

Bartram’s plea earned him another kick. He reached out his arm towards Ingrid. In desperation, he said, “Help.”

The two siblings had a short exchange in German and Ingrid disappeared from sight. Bartram felt a moment of despair. Jasper had no compassion for him. His only hope was Ingrid. She returned a short while later with a bucket.

“Do not think of trying anything stupid,” said Jasper.

Ingrid went up to him and tipped some of the water into his mouth. It did not taste too clean. It went down so quickly that he choked on it. He felt a little better.

“Better tell Jasper what he wants to know,” said Ingrid. She tipped a little more water into his mouth.

“Enough!” Barked Jasper, knocking Ingrid out of the way sending water all over the floor. “Are you expected? Who will come looking for you?”

“Yes,” said Bartram, “Expected.”

Jasper kicked him again. “Who will come looking for you?”

“Everyone,” said Bartram with as much defiance as he could muster. “Carlisles look after their own.”

Jasper threw some more German words at him. Bartram had no idea what his captor was saying but the tone suggested it was not language suitable for church on a Sunday morning.

“If you let me go and leave now. Go to Canada. You could get away.” Bartram was all too aware that his life was in deep jeopardy. He had to persuade this mad family to let him go.

Jasper kicked him again. “We… could… get… away?” He followed it up with another kick.

The two siblings were in conversation, in German. Bartram wondered what they were saying. Was Ingrid suggesting that they let him go?

“Please, you don’t have to kill me. Kill me and my family will never stop hunting you.”

“Quiet,” ordered Jasper.

The two continued their conversation. When they had finished, Jasper turned tail and left him alone with Ingrid. There was a glimmer of hope.

She crouched down and looked him straight in the eye. “You not tell us your full name. We might have given you lodgings, is all. All this is your fault. You could have avoided this. Father will feed again. You will die. Jasper is burning everything that could identify you. We sell your horse. We leave no trace. You were never here.”

In a burst of anger, he tried to lunge at Ingrid but the restraints held fast. The shackles were even heavier in his weakened state.

Ingrid got to her feet and walked away. She shut the door behind her leaving Bartram alone in the dark, again.

# # #

Was this one last torture before they finished him off? How long had they left him here after they had told him he was going to die? It was puzzling that they had left him for so long, while the threat of his vengeful family loomed.

He should have been afraid but he did not have the energy anymore. He was broken in both body and spirit. He sat there in his own filth. His captors had made no allowances for his bodily functions.

The dirty water given to him by Ingrid had helped a little to sustain him. They had not deigned to feed him. Hunger and thirst had taken their toll as well as the blood loss and beatings.

He pictured Ingrid in his mind’s eye. Even now, after everything he had endured, there were still pangs of lust. It was all he had left. One tiny, insignificant pathetic revenge, forcing himself on Ingrid in his head. He enjoyed his fantasy. Unfortunately, the reality of his situation reasserted itself after he had finished.

What would his family do after they had discovered what Jasper, Ingrid and their father had done to him? Sooner or later he would be missed and men sent out to search for him. They were bound to check out Cherryvale Inn. He imagined Jasper’s neck put into a noose and then dragged into Brimstone by a Carlisle on horseback.

“Murderer!” The townsfolk called out. “String him up!”

Bartram imagined Jasper swinging from a gibbet, his legs kicking wildly as he fights frantically for breath. Ingrid, forced to watch, cries in anguish. Next up is his father and then his mother. Ingrid, that evil succubus, is spared the noose. She is sold to Gentleman Jim. He sells her out to lusty cowpokes for ten cents a turn. The menfolk in his family all take their turn, making sure the whore sees them paying her pimp a dime. If this were not humiliation enough, she is forced to sleep with the pigs at night.

He smiles.

It is a shame he will never see the Carlisles' revenge on this family. He has to content himself with his imagination.

How much longer before that door opens and the Father puts him out of his misery?

# # #

He was woken by the sound of the door opening. He had no idea how long he had slept, not that it mattered.

It was night outside. However, he could still make out the silhouette of the father of his captors. He saw the glint from the blade. At last, it would soon be all over.


Also in the Brimstone series: "Father Nathaniel Blackadder" "Jolene White", "Hubert Alderman", "Bonnie", "Charlotte" and "Ingrid Baxter"