Walking with spoons

James Weaselgrease has been with the Hopeless, Maine project for some time now. He’s in book 1, as the child Salamandra gives the bear to. He’s helped out at events, helped lug books onto trains, and he’s been part of the performance side from almost the start. He was singing with us before the idea of singing as part of the Hopeless, Maine project occurred to anyone. 

The picture above is James in Ominous Folk mode, or possibly as Jamesthulhu. There may well be an eldritch monstrosity pretending to be his hair.

This autumn, our James started a course learning how to make computer games. He’d been at it about a week when he made this little beasty. We bring you the first spoonwalker in motion, confident that there is more of this to come. We anticipate that there will be Hopeless, Maine computer games in our not too distant futures!

The art of the Game

Hello again people (and others)!

As I write this we are engaged in the process of a Kickstarter campaign to fund the new US edition of Personal Demons and also the new Hopeless, Maine Role Playing Game written by Keith Healing and powered by Alan Bahr’s innovative Tombpunk system. Here are some examples of the interior artwork I have done for the game.

This is the culmination of several years’ work (and dark incantations) so I very much hope you will join us.

I hope you will join us too in supporting and celebrating two fellow travellers who are bringing their projects to life by crowdfunding. Chandra Free is bringing us a new and shockingly deluxe version of The God Machine (Originally released by the same publisher and about the same time as the first release of Personal Demons) and also Boston Metaphysical Society: The Book of Demons by Madeleine Holly-Rosing. Boston Metaphysical is a fellow traveller and exactly the sort of unspeakably cool steampunk with supernatural elements and heart we want to see more of in the world. So, please become part of these campaigns too if you can!

I hope, as always, this finds you well, inspired and thriving.

Philomena and Simon

If you’re a regular reader here, you’ll know Philomena Bucket from the Tales from the Squid and Teapot. She actually started life as a character illustrating how you do things in the Hopeless Maine role play game. This is why she’s now gracing the cover of a new book. From which you can safely infer that we are indeed up to something with the role play game.

Also in this image, is Simon. If you’ve been following our adventures in film making, you’ll already know that Simon is an example of the island’s pointy sea life. Look closely at this image and it is evident that there’s more than one Simon. There may have been baby Simons recently. But then, sea life changes gender a lot, and who know how Simons work?

Characters on the island tend to have fairly outlandish names. However, there are a lot of sentient beings who are never named where you can see it. Goblins, demons, sea life and so forth. For purposes of keeping track, many of them do have names – but they tend to be relatively ordinary, so there are goblins called Fred and Geoff, and the sea monster is called Simon.

All of this pertains to a kickstarter we have that should be of particular interest to fans in America. It won’t be so good if you’re in the UK because of the postage. Talk to us if there are things you want and we’ll try and figure out sensible ways of moving things round.

A Traveller in Hopeless

Hello people! (and others) The lovely Matt Sanders has played Travels on Hopeless with his group of young humans and has this to report-

 

Hopeless, Maine – Travels in Hopeless – A Role-Playing Game for Adventurous Eccentrics

I’d like to just give you a little idea about the roleplaying game for Hopeless, Maine, and in the near future, I will provide an in-depth review, with all the ups and downs and ins and outs, along with video footage of the game in action.

But for now, let me get the mechanics out of the way, because I feel this game isn’t really about the core mechanics, but more about the nuanced elements of the mechanics and the game world and its atmosphere.

The core mechanics have at their root the Basic Roleplaying game from Chaosium, and any player of BRP and the now-legendary games that use it… Call of Cthulhu and RuneQuest… will be instantly comfortable playing this game. Well, maybe not with the magic, but I’ll get back to that later when I get further into the setting. It isn’t pure BRP, and has its own flavour and style, but those familiar with BRP will grasp it all very quickly.

For those not familiar with the BRP system, but who are experienced roleplayer, it uses a simple roll-under percentile system which is very intuitive and becomes second-nature almost instantly.

The world of Hopeless, Maine will most likely feel incredibly familiar to many readers. I found the world and its characters less like things I was being introduced to and more like things I’d almost forgotten that I knew everything about.

The inspirations are clear, and the world has a deep, dark, abiding melancholy to it, and any lover of Poe, Lovecraft, Carroll, and even Dickens, should find things to love about it. Think of as being like Nicholas Nickleby wandering through the narrow streets of Arkham, pining over his lost Lenore, who the Mad Hatter had sacrificed in an attempt to appease Yog-Sothoth.

The artwork fits beautifully amongst the text, and evokes a mix of childhood memories of those dark and lovely television shows for children that those of us who grew up in the UK and in the 60s and 70s know so well, and the drawings of Edward Gorey and Charles Addams.

The magic system, which I mentioned before, is incredibly thematic and versatile, and comes in two flavours… Folklore and Dichotomies.

Folkloric magic, also called witchcraft by some, is simple, quick magic, usable by most, which requires totems and talismans for its workings, and its practitioners can heal, curse, and defend.

Dichotomies are complex and lengthy rituals used to summon and bind demons, and are a far riskier proposition than witchcraft, and any error by the would-be demonologist could see them possessed or worse.

Don’t think it’s all about powers best left alone, there are also gadgets to be built, maintained, used… and misused… too. Steam or clockwork devices are the choice for the pragmatic adventurer, whilst if you really, really must make contracts with things from Beyond, yes, you can use demons to power your latest conveyance or weapon.

All in all, it is a lovely game, made even more delightful by the world that the Browns have crafted. Mr Healing has done a great job in adapting the BRP system and creating the versatile magics and gadgetry, and I won’t forget to mention Mr Cumber’s work in the Bestiary section either.

Any lovers of Hopeless, Maine who also enjoy roleplaying games really should indulge in this one, and thank you for tolerating my rambling style, as it’s been many, many years since I’ve written a review, and as I said at the start, expect a full, all-singing, all-dancing review very soon.

 

If this has piqued your curiosity, the core rules and the first scenario can be found here. I hope, as always, this finds you well, inspired and thriving.

In which Cliff Cumber is amazing

Hello people! (and others)

It is long past time we dedicated a whole piece to an amazing member of the Hopeless, Maine creative tribe-Cliff Cumber.

We met Cliff on Twitter a while back, and were lucky enough to lure him to the island. He did much of the art for Tales From the Squid and Teapot (some of the very best of it, I would say) He created the art for the Hopeless, Maine tourist bureau (which we still proudly display at events) and then…when we asked him to contribute art to the Hopeless, Maine tabletop RPG- Travels in Hopeless, he bravely stepped forward. Much of the art in the bestiary section is his. (and I got to colour some of it also! ) His Gnii illustration is one of my favourite pieces of HM art at all-ever. Oh! Yes. AND he has a pin up in Sinners! (Two fantastic Sal drawings) Look here, and you will see some selected highlights from his work for Travels in Hopeless.

Mr Cumber was originally from the UK and moved to the US to marry (exact mirror of my own journey) and now does art for comics and several projects for our great friend Professor Elemental!

Go and visit him on twitter and tell him we sent you!

Jolly Boating Weather

With The Great War over, Colonel ‘Mad Jack’ Ruscombe-Green was finding civilian life a frightful bore. He and his batman, Private William Ebley, had been demobilised after the cessation of hostilities and while Ebley was content to spend his remaining days in London as the colonel’s valet, Mad Jack himself still ached for adventure.
When an invitation to yet another country-house party arrived by post the colonel’s immediate reaction was less than joyful. He knew that if he accepted he would be rubbing shoulders with the same dreary set of people, most of whom he despised. The prospect of a long-weekend in the company of minor aristocracy and various eccentrics made the memories of the trenches seem almost cheerful. However, this invitation had been from his old C.O. and he felt duty-bound to accept. Bill Ebley, on the other hand, relished these diversions and took little persuasion to pack the colonel’s bags and load the car.
The partygoers turned out to be as tedious as the colonel had predicted, save for one guest. An American gentleman of Norwegian descent named Frank Samuelsen was a breath of fresh air. Here was a fellow adventurer who revealed, in the course of conversation, that he and his late friend, George Harbo, had rowed the Atlantic some twenty-five years earlier. The story fired the colonel’s imagination. That would be just the ticket. Two months on the open ocean and then the vast continent of North America to explore. He took it for granted that Ebley would be his number two. After all, they had been through a great deal together.

Just a few weeks later the colonel was the proud owner of an eighteen-foot long oak rowboat. Following Samuelsen’s advice the craft had been fitted with a water-resistant cedar sheathing and kitted out with a compass, a sextant, a copy of the Nautical Almanac, oilskins and three spare sets of oars. And so it was that they set out from Falmouth with the eternal optimism of every explorer who ever lived. New York was just over three thousand nautical miles away. This would be a trip to remember.

Fifty five days later they were adrift and totally lost. The storm had raged for three days and nights, taking the little boat far off-course. Both men had suffered horribly from sea-sickness, their supplies had almost run out and the last set of oars were floating free somewhere miles away. The two adventurers were completely at the mercy of the Atlantic Ocean and all hope had perished when they suddenly found themselves in the middle of a fog bank. It was as thick as either man had ever encountered. So thick, in fact, that they failed to see the reef that ripped the hole in their hull until they were upon it. With the sounds of splintering timbers and raging seas filling their ears the two were hurled onto the rocks and into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Bill Ebley was used to waking up in odd places. His duties as batman to the colonel, and then, after the war, his valet, had deposited him in some strange surroundings but none to equal these. The room was conventional enough but he could have sworn that the trio of strange ornaments on the dressing table seemed to be moving ever so slightly. They were rum, that was for sure; they looked like socks with big glowing eyes, loads of tentacles and spoons for legs. It must be something to do with this Dadaism thing that he had heard about during the war. Blooming madness, in his opinion.
Blooming madness blossomed into full-flowered madness a minute or so later when the three ornaments decided to scamper across the dressing table and disappear through a hole in the skirting board. Ebley, never a man to knowingly panic under fire, screamed involuntarily. A second later a burly, middle-aged man dashed into the room.
“ You alright, guv’nor?”
Ebley was ghostly white.
‘What was that?” He gasped, then after a short pause. “You’re English! Am I in England? Or dead, maybe?”
“ Neither, my friend. You’re on an island off the coast of Maine, and I’m Sebastian Lypiatt, landlord of The Squid and Teapot.”
Sebastian revealed to Ebley that he had been discovered on the rocks by a foraging party and brought to the inn, which, incidentally, was occasionally plagued by creatures called Spoonwalkers.  When the valet enquired about the well-being of Colonel Ruscombe-Green he was met with a blank stare and told that no one else had been found.
“We’ll organise a search,” promised Sebastian. “We’re used to folks going missing on Hopeless.”
He didn’t mention that the chances of anyone actually being found were not so much slim as positively emaciated.

If Bill Ebley was taken aback by the creatures who shared his billet, Colonel Ruscombe-Green had been frog-marched to edge of reason, allowed to peep into the abyss and encouraged to wave at the demons. It took all of his mental resources to come to terms with his new reality. He found himself in a vast subterranean cavern, illuminated by a thin, sickly-green light. The air was filled with shrieks and screams, human beyond a doubt, that sounded like souls in torment. Just a few paces away from him an  assortment of ghastly, cadaverous creatures wandered, apparently aimlessly, around the cavern. They might have been people once but, except for a slight physical resemblance, all traces of their humanity had gone. They were sniffing the air and drooling like rabid dogs. Occasionally one would drift into the shadows and its leaving would invariably precede a heart-rending cry of abject agony and misery. If this was not Hell then where was it? And what were these monsters?
As if in answer one of them came up to him, drool hanging from its slavering chops. Had Ruscombe-Green known it, this was the very individual who had dragged him to the cavern, having found him unconscious on the rocks.
“Get back you Blighter …”
The creature, unsurprisingly indifferent to mild epithets, extended a bony arm and prodded him with a finger that was badly in need of a manicure. Then it drew back slightly, sniffing the air. It bared its teeth.
The colonel soon realised why it had recoiled. He tried not to gag as the air was filled with the foulest reek. Suddenly the cavern was alive with firelight and leaping shadows. A lone figure, smelling to high heaven, burst upon the scene brandishing a flaming torch.
“You heard what the gentleman said, now get away.”
The other creatures quailed against the cavern walls, as far away from the light and stench as they were able.
Reluctant to let go its prize, the aforementioned Blighter shielded its eyes and tried to grab the colonel’s arm, only to find itself much closer to the torch than, on reflection, it might have considered as being healthy.
Its skin and flesh was as dry as tinder and within seconds its body was engulfed in flames. Despite the revulsion the creature had instilled into both men, neither was prepared for the full horror of the writhing conflagration before them; its screams, as the flames consumed it, were unearthly and terrible to hear. The cavern, now filled with light, quickly emptied as the other fiends scuttled into the darkest depths like cockroaches.
“Quick, follow me,”
As they made their way out into the cold night air, the Colonel noticed that his malodorous rescuer had a tightly-lidded bucket strapped to his back.

“The fact is,” said the Night-soil man, “I’m safe enough around most things on the island. Nothing much will come near me. It’s the stink, see.”
The Colonel nodded in agreement. He didn’t dare risk opening his mouth.
“I saw that devil drag you in. Sorry I couldn’t have been quicker.”
The other man shrugged and waved reassuringly.
“I’ll get you to The Squid. Seb’ll get you right.”
Although he had no idea what the Night-Soil man meant, and despite the smell, the Colonel was grateful for whatever help he was about to get.

Some hours later, after Ruscombe-Green and his valet had apprised each other fully on their adventures of the day, the colonel said,
“You know, this is a damn rum place but these chaps have been good to us. We should reward them somehow.”
“Reward them sir?” Ebley looked confused. “With what? All we have are the clothes we’re standing up in and a boat that’s been reduced to not much more than matchwood.”
“So we have.” said the colonel. “But, one never knows, we might be able to salvage something from that.”
He paused, then a look of sudden inspiration spread across his face. Ebley had seen that look before; it usually meant work of some description.
“By Jove, I’ve just had a cracking idea. We’ll give our new friends the gift of civilization.”
Ebley gave him another confused look. The colonel looked triumphant.
“We’ll jolly well teach them how to play cricket”
And that, dear reader, is a tale for another day.

Art by Clifford Cumber

Meet Philomena Bucket

Please meet Philomena Bucket. She has recently shipwrecked on the island (which may explain her worried expression)

Philomena is a Traveller. Which is to say,  the example character in the Hopeless, Maine role playing game which is in development by Keith Healing. The whole project is coming along beautifully and has a publisher, so, fear not (or, not too much) it will be with you in the fullness of time. Keith understands the setting and the story in a way that makes us nearly giddy and is finding ways of having players explore and interact with the island and its flora and fauna (and those things which are uncomfortably neither or both) and create experiences and dark adventures.

Here, in Keth’s words, is how Philomena Bucket was born (or created) with some rolls of the dice-

“Philomena Bucket
These numbers tell us a lot about her. Philomena is of average build (STR 11) but a little sickly (CON  She could well appear a little pale and wan. However, her manual dexterity is good. She is not stubborn but can possibly be manipulated (WILL 10) but is of above average intelligence. She gets on pretty well with people (CHA 11) and is naturally drawn towards things spiritual (PSY 15).
Philomena rolled 52 on Class, making her as Middle class as could be, and 47 on Age. The player determines that as this is towards the top end of the range Philomena is 28 years old.
Given her physical characteristics and her high PSY Philomena’s player decides that she is an Artist specialising in painting. Her high PSY and DEX give her a base skill of 36% to which is added another 10% for her age, giving a total of 46%. She is pretty good but a bit rough around the edges.
She is a keen amateur Biologist.
Finally, and intriguingly, she is albino.”

If the roll had gone another way, she would have been inexplicably attractive to small bits of metal.

If you would like to know how all of this is developing and keep up with progress and news of release dates and such, I can recommend following the development blog, here!

 

Hoping (as always) this finds you well, inspired and thriving.