Naughty, Nice...It's All Relative. Now Where's The Damned Presents?

I've had a hoot AND a holler participating in my fellow blog-nards assorted shindigs, soirees, and shenanigans this holiday season.  The raw creativity on display has been humbling, exciting, and downright rejuvenating.

And while the Secret Santicore 2012 event hit some (totally justifiable and lamentable) snags, I'd like to put my gift out there, in hopes that someone gets some use out of it.  It's not much...but, well, it was made with love.  And isn't that what the season is all about?  *snort, cough, guffaw*

Here was my assignment, verbatim:

[Create] Either an encounter (monster or group of monsters) or a random encounter table for bronze-age astronauts travelling through space in some kind of primitive vessel.

Being a big-honking comic book guy of retro-stylings and sensibilities, the words "bronze age" instinctively conjured twisted visions of Jack Kirby and Marvel Horror and Gold Key Insanity...but then I realized it meant something else entirely.  Less spandex, more loincloths.

And so I present my, um, present in a format shamelessly ripped off from one of my absolutely favorite blogs.  I hope someone can get some Carcosan or Encounter Critical-ish or Mutant Future-y or Flailsnails-ian use from it.

Bronze-Age Astronauts...In Space!!! Encounter Table

d12	Encounter
1	Rocky maze-steroid infested with mutated mechano-minotaurs
2	Funerary rocket-barge carrying souls of wrongly-demolished droids to The Land Of The Deactive
3	Star-sphinx sentry singing "Riddles Of The Spheres"
4	Despondent constellation-golem seeking companionship...but preferably a mate
5	Convoy of automated mining-chariots shuttling moon-copper into black hole
6	Drifting laser-ziggurat of the conquering gas giant, Vituprex The Vaporous
7	Debauched robo-revel of the quasar-druids at Space-Henge
8	Be-feathered jag-warbots pillaging in the name of Mecha-Zuma, Emperor Of The Azmeks
9	Jeweled comets pushed by sky-scarabs
10	Beguiling pulsar-sirens and nebula-nymphs offering hospitality and delights at Saturn-ringed oasis
11	Muntinous quarantine-ship overrun by anguished prisoners afflicted with infectious sunspots
12	Freshly-hatched larval planets seeking blood-sustenance

Mutants In The News—"An Entire Campaign In One Picture" Edition

Yeah, yeah...this is neither real news, nor current, nor particularly mutant-y.  But it's just too freaking cool not to share.

Courtesy of Monster Brains—which EVERYONE should have bookmarked—is the Hungarian one-sheet poster for 1979's Alien.

JUST LOOK AT THAT THING.

Stars.  Spaceships.  Energies.  And a planetoid that shows what happened when The Hall Of Doom grew a body, flew away, and died in the sparkly depths of space.

I'm want to compose an entire prog-rock opera around that picture, and I don't know squat about music. THAT'S how awesome it is.

Carcosa.  X-Plorers.  Encounter Critical.  Even Mutant Future.  Any and all of those games/supplements can put a giant, craggy corpse-world to good use.

I'm Delirious For Experience

Journey Master Tim said we'd get extra XP if we drew up our characters in Encounter Critical! style.

Ask any kid who attended Ford Elementary with me:  I'm a sucker for Extra Credit.  (No, wait—DON'T.  Those stories about my Safari Cards bonus reports are EMBARRASSING.)

Anyhoo, here's Creighton-9, in all his candelabra-clubbing glory.

"Murderous Mr. Belvedere"

That's the simple descriptor I gave Mr. Tim of No Signal! for a nasty-tempered and obnoxious robodroid in his play-by-blog Labyrinth Critical game.

I've had so much fun in the few days we've been delving that I decided to post my PC here. Meet Creighton-9, a stuffy, pompous robot who wants to cave your skull in and take your stuff.  

Rolled-up under the Labyrinth Lord rules, he's totally compatible with my usual Mutant Future silliness.  (And as should be the case with all 1st level PCs, his bio is very brief.)

—

Creighton-9
Majordomobot Gone Rogue

Player Character
Character Type:  Robodroid
Alignment:  Neutral

Level:  1
Hit Points (d6):  4
Armor Class:  3
Movement:  120' (40')

Abilities
STR:  13
DEX:  8
CON:  8
INT:  16
WIL:  13
CHA:  7

Modifiers
) To Hit / Damage (Melee) / Forcing Doors:  +1
) To Hit (Missile) / Optional Initiative:  -1
) Hit Points Per Die:  -1
) AC:  +1
) Reaction Adjustment:  +1

Saving Throws
Breath Attacks:  15
Poison / Death:  12
Petrify / Paralyze:  13
Wands:  13
Spells / Spell-Like Devices:  15

Special Abilities / Notes
) Immune to poison, disease, sleep, and charm effects
) Doesn't breathe, and can function underwater
) Advanced Optics (60' Infravision)
) x2 Damage from cold-based attacks and effects
) Electricity Addiction
) Alcohol-Fueled
) Metal-Skinned (base AC 3)

Languages:  Common, Binary, 2 more (TBD)

Attacks / Weapons
) Severance Package (candelabra morningstar, 1d6+1)

Equipment
) Shiny Silvered Serving Tray Shield (-1 AC)
) "Internal Storage" (as Backpack)
) 5 Wine Bottles
) 120 GP

XP:  150

Background / Description

After decades of loyal service to space-billionaire, coconut magnate, and all-around boorish lout T. Howell³, one greasy backrub too many caused majordomobot Creighton-9 to snap. He clobbered his master, purloined some valuables, and set out to accrue wealth (and an army of human servants, natch) for himself.  He's been dodging the authorities throughout the galaxy, and ended up on Vanth after exhausting his funds.

Creighton-9 is a mustachioed, 6' tall robot with tuxedo-like styling, and foot-treads.  He wields a bloodstained golden candelabra (nicknamed Severance Package), and uses a shiny silver platter as a shield.  

His RoBritish sarcasm always drips with disdain and contempt.  And he can mix thousands of exotic cocktails the likes of which you could never imagine (but he hates you, so don't even think about asking him to make one.)