Benton | Incunabuli

Those streams are cold enough to stop a man's heart. The townsfolk claim a nice swim builds constitution.

Misty mornings. The best time to spot älves. They lounge in the trees like cats made of silk.

Many an ancient duel was fought atop Dorr Cliff. A ring of steel still echoes on the breeze.

Mandrakes grow in protected solitude.
They relocate nightly to fool their enemies.

He lived a century in that forlorn subterranea. Amidst the mineral colonies and the blind nymphs, where the water flows milk white through a geometry inhumane.
He will not speak of it.
He didn’t age a year.

A rule we're trying.

"Fun" is allowing the Intellectuals to metagame a little.
#osr #ttrpg #gamedesign

That cave had eaten dozens.
Yet every spring, a daring handful try. They don their tackle, spark their lamps, and boldly vanish.

Legend grows of the fateful gullet. Its repute a swelling bait for generations of prey.

A thousand acres of cabbage crops lost to mammoths, so says the morning edition. A dozen farming families lost.

Lies. The Crown will publish anything to cover the truth.

Faindun's orchards have long grown the finest peaches. Sweeter, they say, then the kiss of an ælf.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

A copper cup of Arenlandish vodka. Clotted in ice.
A living minnow garlish, indignant.

Daylight shines for but three hours on the moors. Fell wisps light the way, come nighttime.

Socializing – INCUNABULI With the excep­tion of reac­tion rolls, there are no rules for social inter­ac­tion. Lies, bar­ter­ing, intim­i­da­tion, diplo­ma­cy, and romance are mat­ters left to your wit and to the Book­keep­er’...

How do you flavor NPC interaction in a game with next-to-zero social systems?

With guidelines, mate. Here, I have recorded three of mine:

incunabuli.com/resources/so...

#ttrpg #osr #blog

Come sunset in Lothrheim, the bees sing themselves to bed. Their humming chorus fades with the light.

Out there, on the tundra: Incandescent mounds. Snow over fires unknown. Céilí-shadows round the flames. Burning every seductive night.

They say to gaze upon the Snow Queen is to know true beauty. An experience unsurvivable.

To boot: The books’ personalities may be, shall we say, unwholesome.

More on thinking books:

incunabuli.com/lore/all-are...

A ledger of books is kept. Of every wrinkled tome on the barred shelves. Names and dates. Regular openings, readings, and correspondences by diligent librarians. It keeps the books sane. The librarians: not so much.

Three eggs a day. Sparrow, quail, robin. Always on your pillow.
An entreaty by some small visitor.

There’s a certain (optional) love for office supplies and paperwork baked in, to match. Enhances the flavor of delving ruins for the big banks.

Kind words, Hugh! There’s a lot to come: Many hundreds of eggs saved from the bird-site.

INCUNABULI | Adventure Gothic A d12 gothic tabletop RPG. Come, desperado: lace your boots. Make a cutter of yourself.

I have been asked: Is any part of your writing AI?

Incunabuli (microfiction skeets + long-form fiction and game rules on Incunabuli.com, all) is entirely human-made. 90% of my microfiction posts originally appeared on Twitter long before LLMs existed.

I am #antiAI

Beastmen leave omens of their coming.
Stone cairns. Stick-men woven in trees. Intricate piles of bloody bones.
Art for a patron unseen.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

Fires in the night. Torches veiled by driving snow. Black-thorn staves and iron tools. All towards the Auldenwood.

None back come the morning.
Failure. This will be the hamlet's last winter.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

The forests of Noîtra abound with wild-eyed beastmen. The mad servants of the Snow Queen.

They please her, they say. Aesthetically: Sweated, red-wet, rippling-hewed. Brutal muses on her boreal canvas.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

What are they building out there?
On the chilly heather-downs,
tall enough now to observe your cottage window:
The structure of a man. An icon of sticks.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

When the pines wear white, beware the wisps. They are lanternmen, some say, who light highways to another world.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

Noîtra’s pines are beyond counting. They will never be felled, all. They say one stands for every soul who has succumbed to the snow.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

In cold Noiträ, disparate dreamers may awaken in odd places, stranded, united on the snow.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg

In the far north, few dare to settle the snow-land of Noîtra. The pines have a habit of changing places.

#lore #incunabuli #ttrpg