"If You Can Dodge A Wrench, You Can Dodge An Armadillo." (GenCon Report, Pt 2)

Here's more of my belated musings from GenCon.  Blame The Man, as he's had me workin' like the dickens.

) Thursday Night

Every GenCon Thursday, at 9pm, I play Illuminati as hosted by the Rogue Judges.  Yes, I sometimes do Friday and Saturday nights, too, but Thursday is my night.  I've done this for almost every year that the show has been in Indy, and over that time, we've developed a crew of regulars that I only see at this specific timeslot.  There's Joe, the referee.  And Vince.  And Ed.  And George...who, whether he knows it or not, is my arch-enemy, because he wins more than I do.  Sure, we see other faces (and The Woman is slowly earning her place, as she's joined us twice now), but it's mainly us Big Dogs who've been the game since it was packaged in little ziplocked baggies.

I don't know their last names.  I don't know where they call home.  I don't know their stories.  All I know is that we're A Cabal Of Some Of The Best Godsdamned Players You'll Ever Encounter Who Only Meet Once A Year In A Land Far From Home...and if that doesn't sound perfect for Illuminati, I don't know what does.

(Oh, yeah.  We actually do have something else in common besides our love of the game, and that something is "The Incident".  "The Incident" involves the only time I've ever played a boardgame where the cops were seconds away from being called due to a not-truly-justifiable-but-pretty-understandable-all-things-considered homicide.  Buy me a beer some time, and I'll regale you with the tale; print just doesn't do it justice.)

.
.
.
.
.

And, yes, I lost again this year.  I hate you, George.


) Friday Morning

Friday was All About Armageddon.  The Woman and I signed up for both of The Esteemed Tim Snider's Mutant Future games, which were scheduled from 10am-2pm and 4pm-8pm.  We're that committed to wasteland ramblin', and since I'm the GM of our current MF game, this marked the first time I actually got to play it with my spouse.  Kinda cool.

While Mr. Snider and I have chatted briefly on the ol' Web, this was my first time to meet him...and I was instantly smitten.  Big smile.  Hearty laugh.  Jaunty hat.  Bitchin' 'stache.  But best of all?  Hawaiian shirt.  I've been known to wear them myself a time or two—ok, ok...they're pretty much all I own, even for work—so I'm uniquely qualified to say that man can dress to impress.

The first game was "Gimme Shelter".  Only 4 of us showed out of the sold-out 6 slots, but that wasn't a problem, as our other players were a delightful married couple who knew how to slang dice.  The 4 PCs we picked were:  a speedy and distracted Mutant Human, a burly Geologian, Plates the Mutant Armadillo (played by The Wife), and Android #7718, or "Bill" to his friends (Me).  [Good thing I wasn't Android #58008, as that nickname would've been awkward.]  Our mission was simple:  follow a map and loot a bomb shelter.

Almost immediately, we ran afoul of a pigman ambush, and combat ensued.  Plates and the Geologian got right into the thick of things by pulling the ol' "Fastball Special"...

...but it failed spectacularly with a roll of 2 on the die.  It was still awesome, though, and everyone was tickled so much that we riffed for a solid 5-10 minutes.  And the hilarity didn't stop, because Plates then decided she could pinball around the battlefield by tucking herself into a sphere like a certain kaiju.... 

I gotta say, Mr. Snider is a helluva sport for letting his players run amok.

After that, we raided the shelter.  Vines were chopped.  Ants of all varieties were slain.  Armadillos were again thrown.  A beaver/goldfish was rescued.  Canned Spam ("It's like armadillo crack.") and laser rifles were looted.

The final scene was the team being sent to investigate a fortress hidden inside a crumbling mountain that resembled human faces...

I can't wait until next year's game.


) Friday Afternoon

More mutant mayhem ensued, this time with the "Dead In The Water" scenario.  We had a total of five players this time, with us rounded out with a trio of veteran gamers who'd been hacking-'n-slashing together for decades.  One was a big, cuddly guy with the hearty laugh.  Another was the quiet and kinda uptight guy with the dark eyes.  The third was a twangy, eye-twinkling guy that you wouldn't trust with your wimmenfolk.

We were essentially playing with these guys:

Outstanding.

This event was a special treat, as Mr. Snider had a delightful surprise up his sleeve—he presented The Woman with a sheet for her own personal character from our own game, Penelope The Craw.  (Sure, she was scaled down a bit, but all that really meant was that she had fewer debilitating mutations than usual.)

You should've seen the look on my wife's face.  She lit up like a 6-year old girl who got a unicorn for her birthday.  She was so happy, in fact, that she started doing a "Penny The Craw" dance throughout the session, which was basically her wiggling side to side in her seat and snapping her hands like pincers to a beat only she could hear. 

Big, big ups to the Mutant Lord.

I picked Kordor the Mutant Owl, who—no offense to our gracious GM—was hilariously sucky.  His mutations were Control Light Waves, Precognition, and a Phobia, described as follows:

"PC is deathly afraid of the dark.  There must be a light source at all times, or he flies into a panic."

Soooooo...that meant I could dissipate light to create darkness...but then have a crippling freakout afterwards.  (Sure, sure...I could also disrupt lasers and become invisible, but it's much more fun to gripe.)  And the precog thing was just weird—especially in a con—as I didn't want to disrupt the event on the "Meta level".  But my concerns were baseless, as the one or two times I used the power, I'd just stone col' take psychic feedback damage...

...because my Magic-8-Ball-Sense only said things like:  "You will soon be devoured by carnivorous seagulls."

My Magic-8-Ball-Sense was a dick.

The game ended up being even more fun than the first, mostly because Rakish Guy played Snapthistle, the thorn-slinging Mutant Plant, as a be-sarape'd, cigarette-hanging-from-his-lower-lip'd hombre right out of the Spaghetti West.  The Snapthistle handle vanished almost immediately and was replaced by a better moniker, The Plant With No Name.

Waterlogged zombies were killed.  Polluted seas were sailed.  Underwater bases were raided.  Giant monster eyeballs were ruptured.  It was an amazing, amazing game.

And here's some context-free quotes from the session:

) Penny The Craw:  "Is there a lot of fire on that island?"
) Mutant Lord:  "Well, I did say it was called 'The Island Of Fire'...."

--

) The Plant With No Name:  "He doesn't like me.  I banged his daughter."

--

) Penny The Craw:  "I'm hiding behind SCIENCE!!!"

--

) Everyone:  "WHO WAS THAT MASKED PLANT?!!!"


—

Again, be sure to check out The Savage Afterworld blog for more GenCon coverage.  Mr. Snider details plenty I didn't...plus, he has pics of my glorious mug over there.

Whew.  That catches us up to Friday night at 8pm.

More to follow.

Fun With Feedback — Soulful, Superbad Super Shark Edition

This is for you, Mr. Bogus Gasman.  Welcome aboard.

"R" is for "Rocketjaw"

Rocketjaw

Hit Dice:  7+2
Frame:  Biomorph
Locomotion:  Wheels, Treads
Manipulators:  None
Armor:  Reactive Armor (AC 1)
Sensors:  Class IV
Mental Programming:  Programming
Accessories:  AV Recorder, AV Transmitter, Robolink, Weapon Mounts (2)
Weaponry:  Laser Pistols Mk 1 (2)
XP:  2,500

Rocketjaws are sleek, low-slung, 10'-12' long biomechanical hybrids of fish and machine, with the living animal encased in a polymer battle-shell capable of moving over any terrain at fantastic speeds.  Said shell maintains life-support functions for a land-based existence while allowing the creature to devour prey as fuel.  Rocketjaws are used as scouts and trackers, and while no one definitively knows their origins, most assume they are the controlled by the Brainwhales to reconnoiter the surface world for pending invasion.

In close combat, rocketjaws bite for 2d6+3 damage; at range, they fire 2 standard laser pistols per round (doing 5d6 damage each).  As long as the creature has access to food, the laser pistols never need their power sources replaced.

Damaged rocketjaws often flee into deep forests, so as to prevent anyone from recovering the technology used to create them.

Mutants In The News — Landshark Edition

A 6'-8' long blue shark was found dead in the New Hampshire wilderness.  How did it get there?

Given that "the closest ocean beach is a 45-minute drive away....", there are only three possible answers:  it burrowed, walked...or flew.

Gamma World tried to warn us...

...as did the great prophet and seer Fred Olen Ray.

This is certainly only the beginning.  Keep watching the ground!

"B" is for "Blacktop"

Blacktop

No. Enc.:  1d4 (1d6)
Alignment:  Chaotic
Movement:  240' (80') 
Armor Class:  2
Hit Dice:  6
Attacks:  2 (2 claws)
Damage:  1d12+1 / 1d12+1
Save:  L3
Morale:  11
Hoard Class:  VII
XP:  570

Blacktops are not only larger and faster than ordinary giant scorpions [p. 93 of the Mutant Future Core Rules], but they're also meaner and more devious.  They possess black carapaces ridged with light-reflective lumps and bands, and wicked pincers that can shear through stone.

While blacktops are carnivorous, they primarily feed on the shattered fragments of Ancient roadways.  A group can greedily destroy a stretch of road a mile long in mere hours, making them the bane of traders, travelers, and Restorationists. 

A blacktop's unique digestive system converts the Ancient tar, gravel, and cement into a viscous, black substance.  This steaming liquid can be sprayed up to 50', and causes Class 3 poison damage; furthermore, a failed Saving Throw Versus Poison means the target is both Blinded and Paralyzed for 2d4 rounds.

Mutations:  Toxic Weapon ("Asphalt Spray")

"What Happens At GenCon, Stays At GenCon." (GenCon Report, Pt 1)

So said my weary, bleary wife a full two days after the show officially ended.

But in direct violation of her wise words, some things you just gotta share.  Here's some random commentary and assorted annecdotes.


) Wednesday

I'm a lifelong convention-goer.  I've been to monster magazine revivals.  And Godzilla fests.  And horror movie weekends.  And too many funnybook faires to count.  And, naturally, gaming conventions.

I'm a veteran, and have it down to a science.  So I will never, Never, NEVER understand the people—like, say, my good friend and hotel roommate who makes the trip to Indy every year, but purposely picks will-call—that endure the lines instead of pre-registering.  I totally understand that the best laid plans go awry, but...sheesh.  The Wednesday havoc was the worst I've ever seen (and it seems to be worsening at an exponential rate, as I remember just a few years ago when you could walk right up with zero wait), and the lines wrapped from the registration area all the way back to the old dealer region.  Use yer Intertubes, people.

) Thursday

One of my dream campaigns involves just two words:  "Monster Cops".  I really don't have anything else nailed down (other than, maybe, calling it "Claw & Order"), but in my head, it's Sledge Hammer! and  The Good Guys and Funkadelic Frankenstein On The Mean Streets Of Monstertown and Screamland all thrown in the blender. 

It wouldn't be all Big Summer Blockbuster-y like Men In Black or Hellboy, though; it'd be pretty low key.  There'd be a gruff gill-man commanding officer who swigs Pepto-Dismal for his ulcers and has it leak out of his gills as he rants at the PCs.  There'd be the hassles faced by Animal Control during the annual "Spawning Of The CHUDS".  They'd be the fetching medusa officer forced to go undercover as a callgirl to stop the Full-Moon Killer...who maybe, just maybe, might be a human.

Given that I clearly love "Monster Cops" (whatever it means), I've been dying to play Third Eye Games' Apocalypse Prevention, Inc. (which the writer himself actually described as "Men In Black meets Hellboy") since I picked it up at last year's show.

The Wife and I signed up for the Thursday event, and the scenario involved us PCs stopping an interdimensional, underwater race war.  We blundered our way through some interrogations, sloppily found some evidence, blustered our way beneath the waves to an army-occupied aqua-tropolis, and brazenly lied through our monster teeth to get NPC A to Secure Location B.  The final scene was said NPC being escorted away in a van on land while, in the background, the ocean exploded with giant tentacles and magical warps and crumbling submerged cities and thousands of dead sea-demons.

We didn't engage in combat the entire session.

That said, we clearly "won", and had a great time doing it.  But the players were a little befuddled...and the GM was even moreso.  He'd run the same scenario a total of 8 times in playtest and at Origins, and those sessions always ended in high NPC body counts, with some TPKs thrown in.  And no person there had ever seen a convention game without combat of some sort.

We just bantered and bluffed and skill-checked our way through everything, and most of the action ultimately happened around us, not to us.

At that point, I realized this is what we'd accomplished:

Awesome.

—

More to come.

I Need A Vacation

THE GENCON CONSUMES ALL.

The show was amazing, but I'm too fried to type.  Recaps and regular content updates coming soon.

"M" is for "Matterpus"

Matterpus

No. Enc.:  1d2 (1d4)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  60' (20')
      —Swim:  60' (20')
Armor Class:  4
Hit Dice:  5+2
Attacks:  3 (2 claws, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d6 / 1d6 / 1d4
Save:  L5
Morale:  11
Hoard Class:  X, XIII
XP:  860

A matterpus is a 3'-4' long, duckbilled creature that dwells near polluted bodies of water.  Its oily, luminous fur coruscates with strange energies, as do the two fleshy growths sprouting from its head.

Surly beasts, matterpodes are highly aggressive and territorial.  Not only do their claws inject a Class 8 venom, but their antennae project beams of atomic force that deal Class 5 radiation damage.  Furthermore, anyone struck by such beams must make a successful Saving Throw Versus Energy or suffer the following additional effects (determined by rolling 1d8):

1) Target (but not possessions) is transformed into unmoving stone for 1d4 days.
2) Target's possessions (weapons, clothing, armor, artifacts, etc) become vaporous and dissipate into nothingness.
3) Target's armor transmogrifies into a softer material, acquiring a +3 Armor Class penalty.
4) Target's ammunition is rendered inert.  Bullets/shells on person decrease in number by 2d8, and batteries/power cells lose 2d8 charges.
5) Target acquires the Bizarre Appearance Physical Mutation Drawback (specifics determined by the Mutant Lord)
6) Target's blood turns to acid, doing 10d10 damage.
7) Target's teeth, skeleton, and nails transmute into metal, gaining +3d6 damage to unarmed melee attacks and +2d6 Hit Points
8) Target's weapons and equipment rendered into brittle—but valuable—gemstone crystals worth 1d20x1000 GP.

Matterpus lairs are always littered with precious metals and minerals.  And their pelts are highly valued, both for their beauty and for their ability to provide complete immunity to radiation.

Mutations:  Energy Ray (Radiation) (Modified), Reflective Epidermis (Radiation), Toxic Weapon (Venom)

"G" is for "GenCon" and "V" is for "Vacation"

I'm heading out bright and early for Indianpolis, so the blog is gonna go dim for a few days.  I'll post a colorful critter later tonight to tide everyone over until Monday.

I'm really excited about this trip.  Not only do I plan on playing some Mutant Future at the table of the esteemed Tim Snider, but this is the first GenCon where The Woman is embracing her geekery with a vengeance.  Yes, this is technically her third trip to the show, but she visited local friends while I slang dice during Year 1, and Year 2 involved her shyly taking everything in and hanging out in the "gamer spouse" areas.  But thanks to playing in Theron's Castles & Crusades-turned-D&D campaign and my own MF game, she's been infected by the roleplaying bug; in fact, she's even participating in some events without li'l ol' me.  *Sniff*, *sob*...my gal's all growed up!

Her transformation truly began last year, when she picked out her very first dice and requisite pouch:

See y'all soon.

"V" is for "Virid"

Virid

No. Enc.:  1d6 (3d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  165' (55') 
Armor Class:  7
Hit Dice:  3
Attacks:  1 (stinger)
Damage:  1d6 + special
Save:  L4
Morale:  10
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  170

Found in even the harshest environs, virids are freakish, 6' tall pack hunters with crystalline "heads", iridescent shells, and spindly legs.  They are spry and agile, and can move nimbly over any terrain.  Virids are so hardy that they possess maximum Hit Points per Hit Die.
 
With a successful hit of its needle-like barb, a virid injects a syrupy goo into its chosen victim, then moves on to another target.  Such an attack does 1d6 piercing damage, and an additional Class 3 poison damage from the fluid.  There are no other immediate effects...

...until 1d6 weeks later, when the injected victim is wracked with unimaginable agony as 1d4+1 infant virids burst explode from its body.  The host is killed instantly, with no Saving Throw allowed.  Only specialized machinery of the Ancients can eradicate the larval virid infestation before its too late.

The virids' unique physiologies make them wholly immune to Mental Mutations that impact psyches directly, such as Empathy, Mental Phantasm, Mind Thrust, Neural Telepathy, Possession, and the like.  And lacking obvious sensory organs, they are immune to optical effects, inhalants, and auditory attacks.

What virids actually consume for sustenance is unknown.

Mutations:  Toxic Weapon (Infectious Agent), Unique Sense ("Detect Lifeforms")

"C" is for "Craniac"

Craniac

No. Enc.:  1d4 (1d8)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  75' (25') 
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:  9
Attacks:  2 or 1 (2 claws, or 1 weapon)
Damage:  1d6 / 1d6, or by weapon)
Save:  L9
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  XXII
XP:  5,900

From the skies they descended...for your women!!!  (And your water, and your cattle, and your minerals, and your....)

In Ancient times, the cyclopean Craniacs visited Earth for all manner of nefarious purposes:  resource theft, livestock mutilations, assorted probings, etc., and they have returned to the Mutant Future to continue their foul deeds.  They possess greenish-yellow skin, stand 6' tall, and often wear shiny suits with enormous domed helmets.

Craniacs feed off of the psychic energies and emotions of their victims, and fear is their favorite delicacy.  They terrorize isolated communities for a few weeks with "strange lights and sounds from the skies" (their spacecraft) and assorted mayhem (usually animal butchery, and kidnappings), and when the population is suitably terrified, they descend en masse for a raygun-fueled rampage.

Any given Craniac has a 50% chance of carrying either a force screen belt (p. 122 of the Mutant Future Core Rules), or x-ray goggles (p. 123).

Mutations:  Dual Cerebellum, Empathy, Mental Phantasm, Metaconcert, Neural Telepathy, Quick Mind, Reduced Immune System [D]

"B" is for "Burstworm"

Burstworm

No. Enc.:  2d4 (3d12)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  3' (1')
Armor Class:  5
Hit Dice:  1d4 hit points
Attacks:  1 (bite)
Damage:  1d3
Save:  L1
Morale:  12
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  7

Burstworms are bizarre, 3"-6" long annelids that feed off of gunpowder and volatile compounds.  They infest Ancient armories, bunkers, and weapons caches, and nest in rigid, cylindrical structures...meaning firearm barrels are their ideal habitats.

A burstworm is a patient hunter, and usually waits for someone to pick up the gun it calls home.  Then, like an eel of old, it lunges forth with snapping fangs.  With an attack roll of a natural 20, the burstworm bites off its victim's finger, thumb, or nose (whichever is closest).

Burstworms are even more dangerous dead than alive.  When killed, a burstworm explodes, doing 1d8 damage to all creatures and items in a 5' radius.  Other burstworms are not immune to this effect.  Entire scavenging parties have been wiped out when one specimen detonated, igniting a chain reaction throughout a worm- and munitions-filled stockpile...!

There is evidence that a burstworm's size is directly related to the dimensions of its enclosure, as burstworms that live in handguns are usually smaller than those that live in rifles.  Theoretically, there could be burstworms of freakishly massive size dwelling in tank turrets, torpedo tubes, or even missile silos....

Mutations:  Aberrant Form ("Combustible Body")

"S" is for "Scrounge Hound"

Scrounge Hound

No. Enc.:  1d4 (1d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40') 
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:  2
Attacks:  1 (bite)
Damage:  1d4
Save:  L2
Morale:  9
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  74

Scrounge hounds, average-sized canines with brown fur, six legs, and forked tails, are one of the most prized animals in the Mutant Future.  They are loyal, affectionate, and protective, and immune to parasites and illnesses.

And with their highly honed senses, they can sniff out Ancient artifacts to an uncanny degree.  If a group of PCs has a scrounge hound in their midst, the Mutant Lord should add an additional +25% chance of finding Technological Artifacts on any roll of the Treasure Hoard Classes table [see p. 106 of the Mutant Future Core Rules].  These bonuses stack atop any percentages already listed.

Due to their sensitive snouts, scrounge hounds suffer an additional +1 damage per die / +1d4 rounds of effect from gaseous-, particulate-, and pollen-based irritants and poisons.

Mutations:  Frailty (Olfactory Sensitivity) [D], Increased Sense (Smell), Know Direction, Unique Sense (Detect Artifacts)

Scrounge Hound — Ol' Blue

No. Enc.:  1 (1)
Alignment:  Any
Movement:  120' (40')
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:  3+1
Attacks:  1 (bite)
Damage:  1d6
Save:  L3
Morale:  10
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  345

Ol' blues are the rarest of scrounge hounds, and appear in only 3% of any given litter.  They have a deep cerulean coloration, and are highly intelligent.

If born close to humanoid settlements, an ol' blue puppy chooses a "master" with which to bond on a psychic level.  This mental linking grants continuous telepathic communication between the two, and also bestows the Increased Willpower mutation upon the "owner".

This connection comes at a price.  Every Hit Point of damage done to an ol' blue is also suffered by its bonded companion, and if an ol' blue dies of any cause other than natural old age, said companion permanently loses 2d10 Hit Points and 3d4 points of Willpower.  Those reduced to 0 Willpower enter into a vegetative state.

Ol' blues and their partners tend to share the same Alignments.

Mutations:  Frailty (Olfactory Sensitivity) [D], Increased Sense (Smell), Increased Willpower (Modified), Know Direction, Neural Telepathy (Modified), Unique Sense (Detect Artifacts)

Mutants In The News — Gammarauders Edition

The bioborgs are coming!!!  The bioborgs are here!!!

A tortoise named Gamera (of course) received a highly advanced cybernetic limb.

"The tortoise was able to move across pavement, lawn, and even bark. 

'He's an ATT, an all-terrain tortoise,' said Charlie Powell, spokesman for the veterinary hospital."

Truly, science at its most mad!!!

This is just the beginning.  Before you know it, they'll add tank treads, a gattling gun, a harmonic disruptor, and a boss tie-dyed paint scheme.

If your mind can handle the brain-blasting trauma, there's even a video of the mechanized horror in action!!!

"A" is for "Apephibian"

Apephibian

No. Enc.:  1d4 (3d4)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40') 
Armor Class:  6
Hit Dice:  4+1
Attacks:  3 (2 claws, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d4 / 1d4 / 1d6
Save:  L3
Morale:  8
Hoard Class:  VI
XP:  365

Apephibians are 4' tall creatures that dwell in tropical jungles, humid forests, and mangrove swamps.  They form loose-knit tribes led by the strongest female, and are particularly aggressive during spawning season.  The more colorful an apephibian's hide, the more toxic its secretions.

The collective croaking of groups of 3 or more apephibians generates hypnotic, soporific frequencies, inducing Paralysis to all targets that fail a Saving Throw Versus Stun within a 40' radius.

Apephibians will gobble anything they can cram into their greedy mouths, and are particularly fond of plastics, power cells, and batteries.

Mutations:  Dermal Poison Slime, Increased Balance

"G" is for "Glotus"

Glotus

No. Enc.:  0 (1d6)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  None 
Armor Class:  9
Hit Dice:  3
Attacks:  See Below
Damage:  See Below
Save:  L5
Morale:  None
Hoard Class:  None
XP:  95

The glotus is one of the most beautiful—and deadly—plants in the Mutant Future.  It floats atop both freshwater and polluted ponds and lakes, absorbing nutrients and energy.

Glotuses glow brighter when approached, and unleash their Energy Rays when other creatures get within 30'.  A glotus' Energy Ray is always Radiation Class 6-10 (determined randomly on a 1d6:  1=Class 6, 2=Class 7, etc.), but its Radioactive Emissions are of a randomly determined Class 1-10.

Glotus ponds are often treated as holy sites by Radioactivists.

Mutations:  Energy Ray (Radiation), Radioactive Emissions, Reflective Cellular Structure (Radiation)

"R" is for "Razorex"

Razorex

No. Enc.:  1 (1)
Alignment:  Neutral
Movement:  120' (40') 
Armor Class:  3
Hit Dice:  20
Attacks:  3 or 1 (2 claws, 1 bite, or 1 volley)
Damage:  2d10 / 2d10 / 6d6, or 4d6
Save:  L10
Morale:  11
Hoard Class:  VII (x3)
XP:  7,250

Standing 20'-30' tall, reaching lengths of 50' long, and weighing over 7 tons, razorexes are the apex predators of the frigid wastes.  Bony spurs and jagged icicles adorn their heads and necks, and a frosty crust ("Force Screen" ) protects their hides.  They relentlessly stalk prey across the tundra, sometimes venturing into cave networks and Ancient complexes large enough to contain their bulk.

A razorex is an engine of carnage, delivering savage melee attacks and launching deadly ranged assaults.  They can hurl icy shards up to 120', which do 4d6 damage to every target in a 10' radius.

There are rumors that some razorexes have been seen with cybernetic implants and mechanized accessories.  Who—or what—would perform such modifications is unknown.

Mutations:  Force Screen (Modified), Increased Sense (Smell), Increased Sense (Vision), Reflective Epidermis (Cold), Spiny Growth (Modified)

"S" is for "Sanguid"

Sanguid  ("Sucker From Space")

No. Enc.:  1d4 (2d4)
Alignment:  Chaotic
Movement:  150' (50')
         —Fly:  60' (20')
Armor Class:  4
Hit Dice:  8+2
Attacks:  3 (2 claws, 1 bite)
Damage:  1d8 / 1d8 / 1d6
Save:  L9
Morale:  8
Hoard Class:  XXII
XP:  7,220

From the depths of space they came...for the blood of the living!!!

Traveling from world to world in their giant "coffin-saucers", Sanguids are palid, 5' tall humanoids with bulbous skulls, poxy skin, tapered fangs, and elongated, suckered digits.  Their scrawny, sickly frames belie fantastic strength and endurance.  They cling to even the smoothest, slickest surfaces, and Surprise on a roll of 1-4 on 1d6 when attacking upside-down.

If a Sanguid successfully strikes with both claws in the same round, the target suffers automatic biting damage plus 1d8 blood-leeching damage each successive round.  Escaping a Sanguid's clutches requires an Ability Check Versus Willpower, at a +3 penalty.  All that's left of a drained victim is a desiccated husk.

Sanguids hate bright light, and suffer an additional +1 damage per die from light-based attacks.  And their alien physiology makes them highly allergic to chlorophyllic compounds, so they take an additional +2 damage per die from plant-based attacks.

Stories of the Sanguid homeworld tell of a planet awash in blood, with crimson rains, gory geysers, lymph waterfalls, and clotted clouds.

Mutations:  Control Weather, Echolocation, Empathy, Epidermal Susceptibility (Light-Based Attacks) [D], Epidermal Susceptibility (Plant-Based Attacks) [D], Increased Balance, Night Vision, Psionic Flight