Convergent. This is described as multiple facets of something coming together, usually to form something completely new.
You might inquire the relevance of this definition. This is simple. Reality as properly defined by both The Ancients and the Scholars of Gamma Terra is crumbling. And not only that, a possible new dimension, known to many as “Void Space” has opened up. Sensors detect that other possible realities have indeed converged upon this meeting point within space and time. Even stranger, these fragments of reality have merged together at points, making rather alarming hybridizations between worlds. Gardens with wires and machines growing instead of plants, octagonal platforms and hallways turned into castle-like labyrinths of stone and wood, whole buildings breaking off into floating land chunks in the cosmic soup. Completely unrelated confines and compounds have blended alongside others. A piece of a cabin has become tethered to a segment of an industrial warehouse, linking to a medieval dungeon. This dimensional space does not operate on principles of mundane logic. Data does indicate that these pieces are fused to instill stability between realities. This alternate world acts in a manner of coping mechanism. More information is required to properly analyze. Deployment is requested.
Author’s Note: What sort of mad crossover nonsense is this? Well, exactly that. Thanks to a long finished game, as well as the BLOOM mod for Doom 2, I’ve worked up some level of inspiration to cobble all means of absurd mash-ups. Also, I’ve been weaving some mythos-horror content into Planescape for a while. For the few people that played in crossover games with me, many of these games are directly referenced here. Set Wands to Warpdrive, in particular, literally broke realities. (It’s probably archived on my old tumblr page.) Technically, this exists outside of typical Planescape, but I’ve always pondered a nexus space between realities. It kind of worked for RIFTS already, why not in other things? Ramon is a background character as well.
As for crunch related stuff? I’ll get around to something. As I’ve already stated, I’d rather use a different gaming system, honestly.
ALERT. A message is being received… a fragment of paper converted into speech. Receiving message.
The Dimension of Shattered Thought
I have once more returned to the World Serpent Inn. Something’s wrong and I figure it’s on me to confront it. I don’t mean within the Inn, so much as something beyond that I’ll find. I just know it. The Inn offers much and I already stayed a night, but I want to see how far its boundless stretches really go. One door, giving off auras of strong emotion and mental power is particularly engaging. What lies beyond? Probably a bad time. But, in the name of exploration, let’s find out! Witness not just a world built of sight and sound, but of mind! Behold dimensions folding from a simple concept. This is a zone cast in a perpetual twilight gleam, it is the dimension of living thought.
So, what is it exactly? This is quite literally a place where thoughts are extracted and manifest. One might ask, “Surely, that’s just a version of Limbo?” That’s not true, as the dimension itself seems fickle and harvests whatever thoughts interest it. Yes, that is correct, the dimension is self-aware. How could I know all of this? The process of trial and error. You see, I have been stuck inside here for an immeasurable amount of time. One wrong door brought me here. The Supreme Thought Entity is by no means evil, but it operates on an alien consciousness, measuring all things by an almost childish rate of interest. Unless it has been attracted to a particular visitor, it usually prefers to scan and sample surface level thoughts. Its interest is rather simple, building whatever it finds the most intriguing. Thanks to me, it has spawned a series of trees, a stump holding a furnished lute, a holy symbol of Oghma, a copy of my kip in Sigil among other things. However, a storm seems to be brewing. As this was not the workings of yours truly, surely company is on the way.
My attempts to interview the force of the reality prove fruitless. While it interacts, it only continues with its previous actions; create things in response to me. There are leftover objects from previous visitors within the space as well. The distant shadow of a castle, several unfinished wooden wagons, a floating water fountain and a pedestal made of diamond are all within view. More than likely, these creations are works of the plane itself. For some reason, these works cannot leave the plane, but must stay behind. Perhaps the “Host” is simply bored of its existence and seeks meaning whenever someone new arrives. Should this be true, this realm became far more depressing. After all, I doubt the creations of the plane bare any nutrients. A quick bite reveals all of this to be a shallow simulation of a real thing. None the less, the plane must be commended for nearly perfect replicas of almost anything. Though, the ranged weapons I thought out don’t fire right. Frustrating. However, that encroaching storm has gotten really close and my attempts to fortify don’t stop it.
Mundane company, it is not. The image, it flickers between existence and warps like a wavering sound. But, there is no mistake, it resembles Kas the Betrayer! The seething warlord rides upon an equally distorted steed, crying words of wrath and vengeance. Attempts to reach out to the arch-nemesis of Vecna fail at first, until I rebuke the Master of Secrets himself. Upon awkward introduction and welcoming my alliance against the dread lich, he begins to devise a plan to escape and destroy the ascending power. But, luck never plays in my favor in these situations. All things around him seem to be breaking down, even the reality created in this demiplane. It’s starting to come together. These aren’t just ordinary thoughts and things, ones from broken realities. More things appear to be joining, all sorts of truly odd shapes and sounds at that. Hmm, now why am I flickering? This is not good. Furthermore, this really explains the anomalies in Citadel Cavitius. What exactly happened there? What’s happening now? What’s going to happen? I’m still fading!”
Message Concluded. Analyzing information. Subject confirmed, multiple paradoxical anomalies detected within reality. Preparing sensors and activating observation mode.
Accessing stable reality points for further research. A caged area composed of iron bars was where my bodily unit was deposited.
Other forms have been brought here, likely of different worlds. A mutant bear (of Gamma Terra) with infused cybernetics, a human in some manner of clothing befitting both an entertainer and a priest from some medieval age, some manner of walking cadaver in the uniform of a mid 20th century American military soldier and a flying horse with a horn (akin to the Unicorn or the Pegasus of classical mythology and legend). Probability for survival and safety increases by organizing the random survivors into a proper party.
The Dimension of the Void
Much of this space is collected debris and junk, which is haphazardously distributed throughout. Much of these piles of objects hail from different realities afflicted and infected by means of Void anomalies. These anomalies are generated by paradoxes in space and time that have built up, until reality begins to destabilize. As a defense mechanism, the most offensive causes of the paradox are removed and imprisoned here. Often, these pieces of reality become fused with other rejected items.
The Frontier-Ship Greyjammer.
From the outside, it seems to be a warped piece of a massive colonization vessel, the legendary Starship Warden. However, much of it looks incorrect. An air shield seems to envelop the surroundings of the vessel, akin to my research on the alien “spelljammers” dragged into terran airspace by recent anomalies. Compared to the Warden, the aesthetics are bent, altered, even twisted in various alien shapes. It appears to be docked against a fragment of a station. No true station exists, but the bridge into the ship’s interior remains in tact within the inter-dimensional void. The bridge itself leads into other clusters of spacial stuff. As the automatic doors slide up, only a sludgy and inky mirror-like reflection is visible. Sensors indicate that this is a dimensional gateway.
Entering the ship only throws the entrant into another micro rift. The interior leads to a classical sailing vessel, traveling along a burning trail within another version of space. Debris chunks from both realities aimlessly float about in the void pocket. Within the new ship, aspects of the Warden bleed in. Chipped and broken boards reveal wired circuitry and other forms of high technologies creeping underneath. A surviving doorway to a captain’s quarters has an electronic pad lock hastily infused into this reality. Likewise, the mast of the ship gives off an eerie chrome glow unlike the rest of the vessel. Even stranger, stone towers connect to the ship through two flanking bridges, both of which seem to travel through the same endless cosmic maelstrom as the ship. Each tower forms a bridge between each side. One tower granted us entrance into this surreal space. The other, presumably, leads elsewhere into this chaos dungeon.
And what of the creatures? Hybrids of mutated beings clad in historical pirate garb, meshed with the uniforms of the United Planetary Federation. Mixtures of Xenoforms and Humanoids converge into wholly new creatures; all seemingly hostile towards boarders. These range from mutated pirates to all kinds of monstrosities. The theatrical “bardic” man proclaims it’s a fusion of a “Beholder” and a “Cacodemon”; a spherical creature with many eyestocks, blood red tint, horns, a singular central eye and lightning shooting from its mouth. The hovering menace caused damage within the hull of the ship through its blasts. The mutants prioritized combat focus on the orb monster. Below decks embody the fusion of these two realms even further. Wooden paneling is juxtaposed by wire-tethered devices, the brown oak textures clashing with the obvious metallic feel of the sliding panel doors, torch-lit weapons caches containing energy weaponry, furnishings containing a mixture of antiquity and futuristic styling. The cosmic stone tower containing an exit was accessible through a key card, left in a below deck storage room.
The Eastern Principality of Phi-Del-Phia.
The tower door was once again a murky portal space. Beyond the mirror, the grouping found itself within a heavily urbanized space, carved and changed like the previous destination. A late 20th century city sprawl is altered in the images of its invasive realities. Stonework, metallic panels and lattice-weave plant matter infest and twist the general layouts of the city. What was once a popular sandwich shop is now fused into some manner of cannibalistic hive for the living dead. Even historical landmarks are born anew. An important building of legislature is rebuilt with imposing gothic aesthetics, including jutting arched buttresses and pointed battlements. And the residents? Unholy infusions and mashed parodies have become the neighborhood. Zombified civilians, augmented demons, alien atrocities and more haunt the streets; some causing destruction, while some idly confused until the right prey arrives.
Worst, outside beings have taken control over these lands, claiming themselves as the inherited princes of the land. As for the city itself, it’s cut off beyond a bay and a bit beyond the city limits to the west of it. Upper City is regularly patrolled by an army of massive robots completely neutral to the princely invaders. The two have arranged a neutrality pact, mostly leaving each respective force alone. However, some humanity has survived the jump into void space. The Tack under Tire Bookstore, formerly a haven of anarchist philosophy, has become a safe haven for freedom fighting humans. Of all things to happen with reality merger, the back of the bookstore now connects to an underground shelter from a future different than that of Gamma Terra. Upon investigation, I found the premises familiar, as did the bipedal bear. According to an attendant at an underground soup kitchen, a vortex appears within the bayside area of the city. The reanimated soldier is offered keys to an amphibious vehicle. Sensors indicated low traffic in between these sectors, allowing quick maneuverability if stealth is maintained as well. Plus, a multi utility vehicle ensures safety in no time. The walking dead man and the bear man take up arms to clear the way of targets. Beyond driveby attacks of zombies and lesser fiends, no major obstacles proved to obstruct. True to the survivor’s statement, a rift is established in the sloshing waters beyond. However, the foreboding cosmic patterns of the sky unleash violet colored lightning upon this river. The aquatic car seems to endure a beating from the alien electricity. The crackling energy caused gradual damage, but ultimately protected the passengers. As cracks became visible and water started to leak in, the jump to the rift became accessible.
The Eveningstar Interstellar Express.
A once pleasant beach moves upwards towards a destroyed shore town. One of the few “undamaged” buildings is a train station, altered by the chaotic void energyes. A combination of an early 20th century station is juxtaposed by a stone-carved medieval bastion. Blockading track walls are topped with battlements and a haunting gothic tone transforms the entryway to the station halls; now a mixture of waiting area and grim castle foyer. But the worst is the vehicle to escort you further into this void space.
It looks like a locomotive, infused with high technologies of a future beyond my record as well as properties of a vile dimension known as “The Hell Quake”. Jagged demonic armory and weaponry shifts the train into a fortified death machine, with a massive skull adorned on the front of the engine. Cars instead lead into houses and halls from the Prime Material, transformed with the diseased hybrid aesthetics spawned from this plane of existence. The train tracks of the behemoth metal monstrosity seem to constantly spawn forward and erase anything already lapsed. The eternal pathway seems to constantly stretch into an infinitude. The only scenery to visit a passenger are floating debris from various realities. Some are well in tact buildings, tethered to flying chunks of earth, not assimilated and changed by the void space. It seems that the main engine of the train is particularly distressed by the changed. A mixture of traditional levels and a complicated computer system from some other vessel merge into a mess of contraptions. The team must stop this train. Through a mixture of ingenuity and brute force, the engine overloads. All things begin to warp around us as another destination comes into view.
Citadel Apocalypse.
The crashed train lies in ruins as the party lie scattered and wounded at a station stop, fragments of the crumbled building drift in the void. Just beyond, a grim specter hovers over a far more chilling castle shaped like a skull. It is here where a powerful entity known to researchers as “Vecna” met an impossible end, within a dark alternate dimension. And it is at this place where reality began to unravel by my approximations. The replacement for this place retains the shape of the skull. But now, it’s metallic and crimson. It is propelled high into the air by weaving pipes that exhibit flesh-like qualities. However, their rust-like bloody color continues from the skull. Alien bolts of violet energy shoot out from clouds forming at multiple sides from the citadel, as shifting square plates seem to move from the last bits of solid ground to the haunted fortress itself. Entrance seems to be from jumping panels and evading purple lightning. Probability of survival? 33%. But, with the aid of the flying mythical horse, these odds will likely increase.
Quick thinking of use of cover saves the team from failure, but the lengths between panels proved problematic. Adjustments through technology and arcana helped alleviate concerns, many found themselves gently gliding towards the destination. The imposing ruin of Vecna lied just ahead. The interior resembles a foyer and parlor, but pieces of some sort of technological installation break through. Mirrors become screens for devices, panels of lights peak from the ceiling, other anomalies change the overall atmosphere of the otherwise grim derelict. Two escalators look obvious from the surrounding decor, closer inspection reveals the blend has made the stairs look like rows of teeth, with each side resembling jaws. The next floor has original rooms that shift into misshapen rooms of bone. All sorts of irrational and illogical forms emerged to attack, most of which were reanimated dead. Ascending further, the party was not greeted by Vecna, but one more gateway.
The Haunt of the King in Yellow.
Accessing database. Designation: The King in Yellow, alias “The Forbidden One”. A far entity like this is defined by a tell tale signature, The Yellow Sign. Whether the real manifestation or just a piece of [NAME REDACTED], this is unknown. However, he watches over his cosmic throne, observing the mixture of realities combined for his amusement. The space around his throne is scattered rock from outer space, flying in a circular pattern. This resembles rocky belts caught in a gravitational pull. The Avatar contemplates and lurks within the shadow-covered chamber. Based on descriptions of this being through multiversal record, it is suspected that he ponders evil schemes. Among the pantheon of The Great Old Ones, his dominion usually lies over the stolen city of Carcosa, floating in a decayed realm of reality under his control. It is very like that Void Space is actually the same trapped dimension as Carcosa.
An avatar of him dwells within this celestial space of objects whirling endlessly in a quasi-vortex. A simple walkway of glowing stones follows the path to a throne of yellow, where The King in Yellow sits. Attempts to speak with the spectral form are blocked with the wave of the mighty entity’s arms. Weaponry and super-powers fail to penetrate wards made by eldritch glyphs produced in rapid timing. Another sigil of magical runes began to manifest within the air. A vortex emerged, as an early 21st century car drove out. A sloppy and dishoveled older human male emerged, armed with a shotgun-type firearm. The Forbidden One seemed to cringe in his presence, as the man lit up some means of smoking drug and unloaded fire upon the dark entity. The King in Yellow’s form began to twitch and pulsate, before growing into a more dangerous monster. The shabby man waved my team of compatriots through the dimensional tear, as he reached for an explosives launcher. The massive cosmic-thing collapsed from collision with the exploding rocket, as the man leapt back into his car and prepared to lead the charge into the rift. It seems this unstable realm is collapsing. Would this mean that the problematic reality elements are mending themselves? It would seem my assembled team is destined to part ways. It is likely we will discover the end result of this in due time.
IMAGE CREDIT: Bloomteam666 – The Void (Ghost Downtown)
Daemons & Deathrays 