First of all there's a reason I'm the one giving this talk and not your mother. We're not mad at you, we're not even disappointed. It's. It's unfortunate this is how it all is, y'know?

Shit I kinda figured one of you might be a chip off my block. Didn't expect *you*, heh. Anyway, uh, here goes.

It's okay to steal stuff, Taylor.

Yeah you didn't really see that coming, huh? There's a part two to that sentence, but. Here. Man to man. Cheers. A small celebration for your accomplishments.

Alright. Serious dad time now. I don't have a problem with you stealing stuff. Neither does your mother, even if she says otherwise. The problem is getting caught and rocking the boat, okay? The way I see it is, we have what we have, and we get all this advertising online and offline talking about what we *could* have. What *others* have and we *don't.* And they try to make us angry about it so we work hard, y'know? "Fuck you, that's mine, I'm gonna work and save and it's gonna be my house, my car, my girlfriend!" They value property over people or try to make people *into* property. Always will. Nothing wrong with not wanting to dance along.

The problem is when you get caught and who you steal from. I've done a *lot* of stealing for you, for me, for all of us. You gotta pick the right people. Grocery stores, for example, have acceptable losses. Jewelry stores don't. Pawn shops? That depends. It's all negotiable and its all risky. A grocery store is safer but certain products aren't safe to steal.

Never thought I'd talking about one of you kids about this. Jesus. I'm not prepared for this. Ugh. My point is. Actions have consequences. The best thing I can do for you, as your father, and as a man who has lived through his consequences, is to teach you how to do it safely. The *second* best thing is to warn you about those consequences. Okay? If you ever have a question, ask me. I don't talk about it much, but I get it. And don't forget I love you.

https://thecoffin.club

Hi again from the monkey house. I hope the POLICE don't redact this one this time.

The kids are doing okay. Rebecca's big now, she's started walking around. Almost ready to start talking. The twins...well the twins are testing my patience, honey. They keep getting in fights with the other kids. It's always some stupid thing, and they don't cause it, but it doesn't help because they're children. Wish I could grab them and shake them and tell them to knock it off. But they're kids and we don't need to both go to jail, haha.

It's one of two things. Either Morgan is arguing with another kid and starts getting in over his head so Nancy runs over and starts throwing fists. Or, Nancy is getting picked on because she's quiet and Morgan comes over and starts saying shit to them until they cry or scatter. I don't know where he's learned those words. Maybe we should've cleaned up our act a bit. He's cutting when he wants to be. And she's rough when she wants to be. God bless them both for watching out for each other but I wish they wouldn't piss people off doing it, haha.

The school thinks splitting them up in class is a good idea. I'm not so sure. They also say sports might help. I'm not putting my daughter into softball, that's not gonna do anything to help her. Probably see how she likes junior field hockey, though. Should help her burn off energy. As for Morgan, I dunno. He keeps taking shit apart because you're not around to hide the tools. I'll see what programs are around for him to get his fun in. They need an outlet that's not their weird little games.

I miss you a lot. I'll send more commissary credits in a week. The POLICE put a limit on how often I can do that, some stupid new regulation. Respond when you can. Love you a bunch, monkey man.

Lou

https://thecoffin.club

The crew talks about the experience of putting together our interpretation of Brindlewood Bay, discusses the different systems we used, and talk about the ups and downs of running mysteries and horror.

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We poisoned ourselves. I was complicit in it but we all had our part to play. Grief, anger, ego, curiosity, four ingredients we all brought into our group. Useful in small amounts. Dangerous when concentrated. Lethal when there's enough for you all to drown in it. I'm sorry for what I've done. Helping you doesn't make up for any of it, my death doesn't roll back the clock. It was never a punishment for me if I was going to instrumentalize it.
I don't have an answer for the four of you. They stole my papers away when I died and even if you had them, I don't know if you have the time you need to delve into them, create another way. I don't have a solution going forward for what this world needs and what it should be like. I always agreed it should never be like this, but I'm a historian, not a philosopher or ethicist or strategist.
What I do have to offer is the last word. They thought they quieted me, and I'm glad you never told them otherwise. That is, of course, assuming you get these messages or theirs. I can feel my control slipping; I hope it goes somewhere useful.
The best way to offset a poison like this isn't just to purge it; that's often too late. The best solution is dilution. Broaden your horizons. Be in the world. Think, question, reason, accept when you're wrong. Grow. You're never too old to grow or change. Take it from the dead woman, hypocritical as this advice may be coming from a scholarly shut-in. Grow, learn, love. Bolster the self and it will endure until your dying breath and beyond.
Good luck. I believe in you. I always believed from the start.
https://thecoffin.club

Janice and Lillian are done talking with you, and Lavinia, she's dead, and they don't tend to tell tales. That just leaves me. To be honest I don't have much more to say. I think I've made it all fairly clear.
We cannot abide the state of things, the cruel engine that powers the world. I am old and ready to join my sister, I have been for longer than I'd like to admit. But we can't leave the others to their own devices. The information is out and god help us all if someone decided to put it into action for their selfish desires.
I have no family, I have few friends, I have no children. My legacy is my work and even then that will be forgotten in time. The other thing I would bequeath on the world is the hand of the Midwives not being able to snatch the others away from the cliff and falling into the ocean.
I would feel worse if it was not for the way the world is right now. And we did try to save the world. But here we are, and the final move to make has never been more clear.

https://thecoffin.club

Over the years we all went mad in our own ways. Halsey went from disbelief to anger to anguish. Forrester remained at her side, ever vigilant, repeating "this too shall pass, this too shall pass". It went from soothing words to rote recitation to a grim, resigned mantra. This too shall pass. Ingham was excited; the masks were off, the base, cruel nature of the world revealed, the game bigger than she ever realized. I slipped deeper into my studies, into alienation from the world, into cold moonlit water and the thing beneath. Things were more stark and sober, especially now that we knew who also were in on our little secret.

They held a meeting. I was more of a consultant than a participant. That's when I knew how bad it all had gotten before they even broached the topic of using it (that would be another meeting, one they didn't think I knew about). This was before the pandemic. We didn't know how things would get and they were already acknowledging the elephant in the room. I made my stance clear to them: that the juice was never worth the squeeze. We buried it deep enough, and all we needed to do was ensure the information was never found by anyone.

They thanked me for my input and kept talking.

Why would they listen to the woman who sequestered herself away from the world, after all. It's not like I was in touch with society anymore; I had my job, my quarters, my research, my neighbor. Too young, too naive. As if they could ever have figured their plans out without me. As if the bargains I made didn't give them the material necessary to put their plans into action when they inevitably did. As if I didn't expect they might take me off the board. As if I never found whispers in the silence, companionship in the dead of night, my own compromises and sacrifices.

As if one of us wouldn't have a conscience, even if it meant dying to do the right thing. More than they ever did.

https://thecoffin.club

Everyone here is either an asshole or a freak. At this point, I'm not going to count myself immune to this judgment. I've got a doctor on my arm and a local middle school math teacher might as well be my walking, talking shadow. Not to mention I'm not dressed for this sort of shit; people are dressed well, so are they, and I've got tan slacks, white shirt, blazer, shoes, like I'm going to circle-jerk with a bunch of middle-aged franchise owners after we talk about our divorces. It's hot in here and I fucking need air.

Leaning against a railing, drink in hand, enjoying the night. I know a thing or two about perverts and fixations. Seen shit that makes folks' hair stand on end while someone involved begged for more as sweet as can be. My problem isn't with the gratification, it's with the simpering, the begging. There's a difference between an absence of shame and being shameless and these people are shameless. I understand why. I don't approve but I understand: because what they're all focused on there isn't real. It doesn't make sense. Yet here it is, irrefutable, outside under the waves, and it's crossing their wires and making them all think with their pricks and pussies.

The priest is fixated on trying to define the nature of evil and if this thing is evil. The couple just want to dress up and screw about it because if you can't have a kid, why not make the year better. The dancer might as well be Jeffrey Dahmer if he was a worthless bottom who needed his zombie slave to rule his life and be his god. The "Satanists", the gossip, the fascist, the anarchist...it's all like going to your first orgy and realizing that the human body is, first and foremost, a physical thing beholden to disgusting laws of biology. The idea of the orgy is an enticing erotic fantasy, the reality is complicated and often off-putting.

If you're at the pervert convention and nobody around looks normal, you might be a pervert too. All worthless fantasists. Even the pervert I love. Even me.

https://thecoffin.club

I will not fall in love with the sea like Captain Nicholas Flagg.

Mother has forbade me from sharing in the same love of the sea as my father. She was right and I was foolish and I will go home and she will chide me and I will say "I am so sorry I did not listen, mother" and she will hug me with tears in her eyes and it will all be wonderful. I will go to the school we have decided on, find a husband, bear him many sons, build a home together. They will ask me of the summer I spent with my father and I will never, ever tell them of what we did. His name will be a distant memory.

As we sit here I can see the gears turning in his head. Father defines himself by his worth. Not his income, not his possessions, but a more esoteric thing, a je ne sais quois that he feels makes himself important. He will have a story to share, one that earns him sympathy, even empathy. But these are not worth. He hides it well but he is my father and I am clever. He has already decided there will be another boat. It does not matter if we survive this. He has made up his mind.

So be it. There is only so much ocean, only so many sailors. There is this island and there is me and him and the sea. Somewhere out there are all of the dead and the wreck of the Isabel. I have made up my own mind. Because I am a girl I know I am not supposed to speak my thoughts aloud. I hold them close to my heart unless a man asks, and he will never ask, because he wishes to protect me, even though I am here because of him.

I have decided that if he returns to this line of work, I may never forgive him. My worth will be of my own measure. And I will never fall in love with the sea like Captain Nicholas Flagg.

https://bullypulpitgames.itch.io/desperation

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They asked if they could come and speak to me, and so I set the table for the four of us. Spent the day cleaning the house, getting everything in order, had food delivered (nothing fancy, just a roast chicken from the place down the road and all sorts of sides). The three of them were so nervous sitting at the table with me, I almost forgot to eat. The tension was palpable; they didn't quite know what to make of me. I scared them. I relished it dearly, just in case this was the end of my little game.

I was the top of their list. An anomaly. A red flag, highest possible danger. Little old me. Can you believe it? I was clever, but I was outnumbered by people who knew what to look for. Someone who can access juvenile medical records, someone tied into the legal system, someone who knew how to connect the dots on the east and west coast. It's not ever day a girl gets given the treatment and respect she deserves. So I came clean. Yes, you've got me. The executioner of Forest Glen, a person of interest in assorted cases along the Pacific coast, someone in the periphery of misfortune and misery as I got what I wanted.

They told me what they thought I wanted and I laughed. Why would I want that? I have my life, my rules, my honor, my game. That repulsed the youngest one, she had to excuse herself. The other two found their voices and made their pitch: if I joined them, I would know more. About the things I still dreamed about, deep within my loveless heart, the mystery of the world that captivated me as a girl. The beautiful thing out in the sea would be mine to understand.

How could I ever pass up such a reward? Once again, I remain unpunished. Once again, my game continues. This time I had other players.

https://thecoffin.club

It took longer than I'd like to admit to decrypt the Witch's notes and even then they weren't the most clarifying. Nance had been an assistant until he was on the wrong side of the ritual, and they had been working for decades with no real rhyme or reason. It wasn't until I brought others in on the secret that I started to get it.

They believed they could get what they wanted through sacrifice and they had high hopes. The notes were riddled with inarticulate racist screeds, paranoid doctrines, petty delusions, manic hopes. They had theories and hypotheses and experiments. More organized than I wanted them to be, to the detriment of everyone around them. It was interesting, inexcusable work; they were testing responses, seeing what could or couldn't be given to them. I don't know what caused the Witch and Nance to come to odds, but once Nance was out of the picture it was clear the goals became more desperate, more sloppy, leading me to him and to his death.

I sat on it for another 15 years. Isn't that funny? To keep it all inside for 34 years of my life. I was 42 when I told someone else and it was a woman I met at a gay bar. I told her less than a year after meeting her. Yet that still just broke a seal. It demystified something forbidden. And it lead to a new purpose: community pillar by day, scholar by night, surrounded by three other women. A piece of my heart, even if she never returned my advances, by my side. A protégé who helped us all realize our potential. An asset embedded in the community, watchful, patient, lethally clever. We all believed in the purpose of containing the knowledge, up until we started to see what holding it back was costing the world.

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On a good day, I was their protégé and they were my teachers. On a bad day, I was their pet and they were my owners. I didn't really care one way or another, the work was important and I never really cared for other people. Maybe in some part of my heart I hoped they saw me as their daughter. Seeing as how this all shook out...they eventually disabused me of that notion.

I disappeared from the world. They funded my transition, my new identity, my studies, my work for them. A history student can access a lot of materials without raising a brow. Put together a historiography of the Bay, looked at surveys, maps, stories. Why did nobody else know about this? Why did a teenage boy with a spectrograph get a community killed and the NSA, with all their fancy toys, had no idea? Mysteries abounded, deeper, ever deeper. I became their pet scholar, their witness. I figured out who else would know. I probed, confirmed, helped construct a threat dossier.

In 2012 we held a sort of convention. All the threats in one place to be assessed, weighed, measured. I did not attend; the three of them wanted to consider the targets without my immediate bias. And I was busy with moving to the island facility. We had to consolidate everything we had and ensure it could hold enemies and witnesses.

The first night in Flagg House I couldn't sleep. Found myself sitting on scrubby, shitty shore in the twilight, bare feet dipped in the shifting tides, smoking a cigarette. It was there, and it was real, and I would be its neighbor until the day I died. A part of me was tired of the loneliness and compartmentalizing, and I decided. If we were to be neighbors, maybe we should learn more about each other. And so I put out my cigarette in the sand, took off my dress and waded out into the surf.

https://thecoffin.club

Picture this: it's 1998 and everyone thinks you're an asshole for thinking better things are possible. Strike that: they think you're an asshole for thinking they should be better and wanting to say something about it. You're doing this because you're just boiling in your own anger and you don't even feel good about it. Because you saw that man throw everything away he promised in 1992 and now it's 1998 and he got caught with his dick out and is gonna get away with it. All the campaigning and politicking and theory for what? After the 80s, you could've had anything if you stuck to your guns, and your biggest political allies threw it all away for paychecks with another zero.

It's 1998 and it's vapid. The decade has been aimless. You dodged Don't Ask Don't Tell being implemented because you've been out of the game for a while, and it's all your service branch friends want to talk about, and you're tired of it. You all went on that queer veteran march together, heads held high and voices raised. One of the greatest nights of your life. This political news shall pass. But nobody wants to focus on the future. Just the now. The money going up, the newest TV shows, the hottest movies. It's over and your country won and by proxy you won and who cares if you're happy.

It's 1998 and she walks into the bar and maybe there's something good in this decade. She's a doctor, she's educated, she's funny and witty and you share the same politics. You swap CDs and books and enrich each other's worlds; she takes you to the theater, you take her to wrestling. The two of you are like magnesium and aluminum and when you hold hands you could burn together forever.

She wants to make the world better. She's seen things too. Maybe you could improve the world together as a couple but she never says anything about that so you don't either.

It's 1998 and she wants to tell you about a secret. A weird secret. You gotta keep an open mind. But it's her. So you will.

https://thecoffin.club

We got lucky getting this house. First thing your big brother ever helped us with. I used to think I was slick but Morgan's got my charms and your mother's sense even before he was born. Got your mother's temper too but y'know don't tell him I said that, Becks.

Your mother and I were, to be blunt, using contraception. We wanted kids, but we wanted them on our own timetable. I was working in construction, she was managing stores, we were making ends meet. This company put out this new birth control drug and they were looking for early adopters. It was not a medical test. That's important. Because if it was, we wouldn't have gotten the money for the house, heh. I don't know if they forced it through the FDA or if it was flawed, but the drug didn't do what it was supposed to, and a few months later she was pregnant with the twins.

First thing I did was hustle her over to a doctor, get blood work, all that stuff. It cost us, but it was a smart gamble. See we weren't the only people having kids who shouldn't. And, cynical as it is, we wanted kids and we didn't have the money to. Under other circumstances, we'd've taken care of it. This was our shot *to* have kids *and* have someone else foot the bill about it. Took another risk, called a buddy of mine who was a lawyer, got us into a class action suit against them.

Lots of them took the immediate payout. Not us. We got a structured settlement, a check every two weeks. Squirreled that away for a rainy day. Found this place on a police auction, actually. Hole in the ground but I'd had enough experience fixing bad houses. When the twins were born we had three rooms we could live in, and I kept working at it. You're lucky, Becks. Whole house was done when you showed up.

https://thecoffin.club

[WEIRD BITCH HOUSE RAMPAGE REAL NOT CLICKBAIT GORE WARNING GONE WRONG]

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I don't know why they never said anything about me. I think that at the end of the day they were either afraid or ashamed. Afraid of what I'd do or say. Ashamed at the fact that I did their dirty work and they couldn't take responsibility. We never coordinated a response, I never had to say anything to them, they all came to the same conclusion independent of each other: the young ones get away clean. Maybe they thought I'd grow up to atone, make amends, fling that light into the future. Prove what we believed in was true.

The truth is, if it came down to me or them, I'd pick myself any time. Not to say I don't appreciate their sacrifice. It just wasn't needed.

They moved me out of state, thought it best if I go somewhere else. The dice landed on Portland. The Millers were good folks: bohemian, stable jobs, never had a daughter before me. They tried their best. I learned what people expected of little girls, and I conformed. It was helpful. Instructive.

Experience is a great educator. What Forest Glen taught me was that if you make a mistake, you learn from it. Get caught? Have a plan. Need to do it? Don't need permission if you don't get caught. If you give them what they expect, they don't look deeper. There was plenty to learn, before and after college, all the way up until I moved back to Brindlewood Bay. And I was an eager student.

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I kept my own separate notes during the investigation, and from 1979 to 1983 I would imagine the man I called the Witch of November. This was not the man who took Donna; he was Christopher Nance, and he had an extensive history. Veteran of Korea, long-time resident of NYC, roving working man. Publicly, the authorities assumed he took Donna out of some twisted desire for revenge or to make a point. He made for a perfect scapegoat, too easy an answer.

Privately, when I autopsied him and involved myself in the investigation, the authorities had screwed up and knew it. They assumed he took Donna into the woods. We should have thought to look to the bay. I had been expanding my horizons, becoming more cultural and worldly as a student is wont to do, and was struck by this failure and the grim truth that the sea never gives up her dead. His body had been put on display with markings and cuttings. And Nance had been found before Thanksgiving.

Hence, the Witch of November. Though I never said it aloud to them.

What a strange, sad hope I had at the time. I didn't try to get my parents on board, I kept it all to myself. All I had was the work, my studies, music and the desperate fear I might never recognize Donna if she had been alive all these years.

In May of 1983 I put her memory to rest for good, along with three bullets in the head of the Witch of November, his body in the bay, and everything he owned in a locker. He was in no state to answer my questions. I had to do my own research.

https://thecoffin.club

In retrospect it was a power play. They wanted to humiliate me and force me to back down. I probably should have listened. But what's done is done.
The two of them invited me back to her house, made me dinner, opened wine, lovely evening until it wasn't. I really thought I was being propositioned by the two of them and pillow talk would be folk tales and history books. They brought me to the library after dinner and told me to tell them everything and I did. That's likely what saved my life.
It was 2009. I was working on my senior thesis, history major, lit minor, and the East Coast is steeped in so much unrecognized history. It saturates everything and it just becomes normalized or forgotten. I'd heard about the Chimera from a niche corner of New England historians who were convinced it was the unsung inspiration of Innsmouth. There was too much different, but I gambled and researched and read the Testament and that got me hooked. I dug deeper and here I was, full of veal parmigiana and good wine and grand ideas.
They got quiet and shared a look and that's when the questions began. Who knew I was here? How close was I to other people? Do I have my thesis on me, do my teachers know, etc. etc. Not subtle in the slightest. I felt the sobriety crest inside of me and I braced myself in my chair and managed to find my voice and I said...I wanted to know more. I could keep quiet, I could change my paper, but I needed to know more. They were a doctor and an advocate; a humanities perspective couldn't hurt. And if I followed the breadcrumbs, and they felt this strongly, maybe someone else did.
They smiled. Sure? Why not. Let's keep a secret between us girls (I hate this is what endeared me to them so much). See if you can't be useful.

https://thecoffin.club

We left Kaserne that afternoon and went down into Wiesbaden-Erbenheim. They'd made the mistake of paying us that weekend, we were sick and tired of drinks on the base, and enough of us knew how to solve for X. Climbed into the back of a passing motorist's truck and within a half hour we were trying Old World lager for the first time. Funny enough? I don't have a taste for it.
O'Malley must've seen the way I was looking at the bartender. When the conversation was quiet enough, and he found his courage, he asked the whole table if they thought I was "a queer". Phrased it like that. Fuckhead. He saw the way I paused a little too long and gave me this grin. So downed the rest of my beer and said "Of course I am, your mom kisses your forehead with the same mouth she uses to lick my lips". That got him real pissed, especially when Fieldman accused me of fucking goats, on account of the lineage of O'Malley's mother. But god bless him he saved my ass with that and we all laughed and carried on like the grand ol' finest of the U.S.A.
About a week later I crept up on O'Malley, pulled a bag over his head and whipped his ass until he begged me to stop. Didn't see me coming, off the cameras, wore gloves, whole nine yards. Shame he took it out on Fieldman with the military police. Meant I had to hit him again until he rescinded the incident.

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Mr. Isaacs got a radio with a satellite dish and everything and Roger asked if I wanted to see it. Said he had something cool to show me. Didn't sound like it was cool. Daddy said Roger's a good-for-nothing like his old man but what does he know, all he does is sit by the TV and listen to the pastor and agree with him. Momma says I gotta think for myself so I did and I went over to Roger's house and he showed me how you can make pictures out of radio waves, it's like how bats can see in the dark.
And it was so beautiful.
And Roger was so scared.
I don't know why he was scared, seeing a thing like that, but he started crying. Mr. Isaacs didn't believe him, he showed him the picture and everything, but he talked to Dougie Montgomery and Markie Shipman and Betsy West and they all understood, they all saw it too. What're we gonna do, what're we gonna do, it's the end of the world. How's the bunker under Forest Glen gonna stop that, daddy doesn't have big enough guns. Blah blah boo hoo.
Maybe the world ends. Maybe it doesn't. It's all just a game. All I know is that Roger Isaacs' radio showed me something amazing and real and true and if Momma and Daddy don't believe me, then heck with them, maybe I can do something about it.

https://thecoffin.club

They recovered what they could from her backpack. It was torn to ribbons, everything inside ruined by water. They kept it all as evidence, but we knew it was useless. She'd disappeared into the hills around the bay with that man and I knew we'd never see her again.

Not like I didn't mourn. We all did. A traditional burial. Mom wanted an urn for the churchyard but Grandpa was firm. We held the funeral on the third day after they found the backpack, people came. No eulogy for Donna. It's tradition. I said something quiet under my breath and that was that.

She would've been 33 by the time I entered medical school. Fifteen years without my sister. Funny how you get used to it. We just didn't talk about her anymore.

And then suddenly we did again. When that man turned up dead and they found him on the trail where they lost her. When they pulled me aside and asked if I knew anything. And when I asked if I could help and they said yes.

https://thecoffin.club

Refusal to change is a powerful motivator. When the people of the INZ were denied a chance at defining themselves, it made the relationship between the nation and the UCC crystal clear. There are whispers in the streets of Walltown, there are meetings in the back rooms of warehouses in Tower Hill, the shows of Ticketton are leaning more and more political, strangers local and international move through the Underground and Westanchor. Tensions are rising in the INZ. Only time will tell if the pot settles or boils over. But there will come a resolution to the question of occupation or independence.

https://thecoffin.club

Decades after the collapse of Icarus and the ensuing wars, the Icaran Neutral Zone is occupied by its neighboring nations. One part colonial military government, one part philanthropic action, one part economic experiment, the INZ is a nation of people who do not control their borders, their laws and their enforcement, their industry. That does not mean the country is dead and buried; far from it. The brushes of other nations, the paint of the INZ, the colors of its people, all of these will paint a different picture. Something that wants to be self-sufficient, something new, something built on the bones of old history, national grudges, wars, theology and long-neglected magic. Change is hard, but can start with a single spark.

https://thecoffin.club

The arc of history is longer than you think, its weight heavier than you ever expect. Icarus will never be the Empire that birthed it; its ambitions run contrary to its dead progenitor's, its intent safer, its people working for all and accepting of its neighbors. Something good is not good forever. There must be maintenance done to ensure it endures. Icarus is what happens when the work of prevention is put off for too long, when the traditions run too deep, when you reach such wondrous heights and forget the foundations beneath you. Icarus will fall. See where it lands.

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Happy Halloween 2025! After we played The Isabel months ago, we knew we wanted to play Dead House at some point, so here we are! The people of Neola are in for a long, bad winter in 1888. How many of them survive is up to fate.

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About a decade after the events of The Student Body and The Daughter of the Knife, the Empire finds itself in a conundrum. The war on the Eastern Front continues apace with production of zauberpanzers, monstrous weapons and soldier mages, their industry of magic and terror unmatched, unthreatened. But a new enemy has coalesced to the south, the margins of logistics too thin to redirect anything towards them, and many fronts is how an empire falls. Five high-ranking officers of the Experimental Weapons Division are given carte blanche to create a new weapon to push back the southern soldiers, secure the border and further the grasp of the nation. They don't realize their choices will echo into consequences and history they could never anticipate in the war to come and years beyond.

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The crew assembles to talk about 3:16 and Follow one last time! We discuss behind-the-scenes details, character arcs, inspirations and the experience of playing a game about genocide and fascism in 2024.

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Order has collapsed. The greater Terran Expeditionary Force is at the door to enforce it. Ten will stand against them to hold the line and put all of themselves into one last act of desperation. Most of them will not survive. Tell me, truly: do you believe in miracles?

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At Year's End we gather our friends and loved ones and celebrate the passage of time, our accomplishments, our good deeds, the experiences we've had. Regrets are observed, losses are mourned, emotions are shared, but above all else Year's End is a joyous time, a time to prepare for one more year around Terra. For four members of Yegg Battalion, there will be no joy, no mirth, no celebration. There may not even be a new year. There will only be a decision, one whose outcomes are lined with teeth, compromise, misery and suffering. This moment is the culmination of all of their desires, their strengths, the weaknesses, their hopes. There is no clean solution. There is only what comes tomorrow in the sobering light of the new year's day.

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[RECONNECTION GRANTED. INPUT TROOPER ID]

dsafbjndfpodnjfkdsajv wdsdwd3

[INVALID ENTRY. INPUT TROOPER ID]

d8888888888s8d8888888

[INVALID ENTRY. ERRATIC LIFE SIGNS DETECTED. CHANGING TO VOCAL RESPONSE SYSTEM]

"Hello Trooper! Please state your name and identification number!

I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Can you try again?

You seem to be under distress. I can help! Try nodding your head if you understand, like this!

Very good! Do you need medical assistance? Nod if you understand, like this, yes yes yes, or shake your head if no, like this, no no no.

Understood. A medical officer will not be dispatched to your location at this time. Can you try saying your name? Or a common nickname the other Troopers may have given you?

Very good, Trooper HEATHER. You're doing such a good job! Would you like assistance in operating your armor?

Very good! Try lifting your left hand, like this! This is your left hand!"

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Yegg Battalion needs time to rebuild its ranks after the conquest of Elysia and for its survivors to get their heads right. Thank goodness for spiritual guidance. Sparky has a long overdue conversation. Deck finds that old-time religion. Sixty-Nine plants the seed and will surely enjoy reaping the harvest. Pleather expresses her urges in a totally healthy way. Everyone gets to sit and think about what they've done. https://thecoffin.club

[TRANSCRIPT 2:45:32-2:53:19]

"-dirty little secret of The Iron Ring, one of the most affordable and busy places to live on the entire super-structure! Many would turn up their noses about living in the back yard of a prison, but opportunity takes many forms and a smart operator doesn't scoff at the cards they've been dealt. The Lamb is home to some of the most vital industry around, a vibrant night life and plenty of jobs, none of them in manufacturing! You're above that, after all, let those who did the crime do the time! Now, many will say "well go work at the QIT Distro Hut, or the #01  Plus Ultra Clean! facility or the official Poppin' Brandz Fuck You Got Mine Mineral Extraction and Processing Complex! But real hustlers know the best work is to be found at The Lamb itself. You think you're better than working for the prison? Au contraire! All contracts flow through The Lamb: none of the prisoners can be trusted with the internal workings of the structure and, legally, the guards are not allowed to recover escaped prisoners. Be your own boss! Set your own hours! Hustle them buns and hunt down folks who've skipped bail or slipped between the bars! Just watch out for Triggr crews, Obloqchain film crews, and non-compete contracts, and everything should be hunky dory in your new home! And if you can't beat 'em? Join 'em! Next up is Spiderbite Alley, a unique hab structure that's a bit of a funny misnomer: due to zoning laws, there technically are no alleys in-"

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We played a one-shot of Red Markets 2nd Edition with Jess as the GM and Caleb Stokes was kind enough to come on and join the rest of us as a player. The Basskickers are a Taker crew operating within scenic Troutfit out in the Loss. The world is overrun with the walking dead, the bills are still due, and the Basskickers have to get work and get paid. Loman sucks in his gut and tightens his belt. Parker tries to reach out to the youth. Sketch is figuring out the fastest way from point A to point B with explosive results. Null finds herself torn between two extremes because of her faith. And Absentee? Absentee is patient. He can wait.

https://bsky.app/profile/hebanongames.bsky.social

https://hebanon-games.itch.io/red-markets-2nd-edition-beta-playtest

https://www.patreon.com/c/hgod/posts

https://www.patreon.com/c/dgdc/posts

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The Mathematician's Lament

Years before Molly, Lex, Diego and Karl found a new home and new purpose in Everwhere, Doctor Julius Langstrom was a simple academic dedicated to understanding the fundamental forces of the universe. When his nephew Rene and Rene's friend Lucrezia come to visit, Langstrom shows them his latest theory: that there may exist other worlds than these, ripe for the taking. But what starts as a hesitant experimental jaunt becomes something much more dangerous when the trio come into contact with a mysterious being known as The Grand Architect, a mind without a body capable of bending the world to one's dreams...or nightmares. This is the birth of The Everwhere, but in a world without Wills and Ways, and no easy way to return home or take charge of this strange new frontier.

Book Four in The Everwhere Cycle

Reviews of The Mathematician's Lament:

"E. Stapleton does it again." -M. Washington, The Virtue Times

"Hauntingly dreamlike, ideologically pure." -G. Kasita, District 3 Culture Beat

"A perfect worldview for children and parents who are still kids at heart." -T. Sugimoto, Simple Steward Living

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The crew of The Long Bones have managed to accomplish most of their goals, but that little bit remains elusive. Mohs and Orion get briefed on the situation and get to work securing the last of their stability and security. Success is not yet assured, which is a shame, because when I want to ensure a job gets done, I hire freelancers from my good friends at Triggr! Using the Triggr app is so easy, it's no wonder how they dominated a fifth of the market with their affordable rates and job placement! You don't even need literacy or a fully working computer: just speak loudly into the microphone of any computer and they'll do the rest for you! And if you'd like a discount on your next job, use my referral code #LONGBONES at Triggr.ring! I'll get a kickback, your problem will be solved, and we can all enjoy the following recipe that my grandmother loved to cook me back when I was a nineteen year old girl working in the Gem Mines and I needed a high protein boost for the workday.

Six sticks of butter

Three cups vanilla extract

Half a pound of ground coffee beans

A dash of cinnamon

Three cups of sugar

About four cups of ground Telgri beetle (powdered Beloth worm will do as a substitute, not optional, this is where the protein comes from, and don't worry about it being purified of contamination, the minerals are fine in trace amounts!)

Six scoops of nutmeg

Fifty three cranks of pepper

A box of baking soda (baking pepsi will do in a pinch)

A hearty glug of BANG! Poppin' Brandz Orgy Sauss (tm)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Whip butter, sugar, Sauss (tm) and vanilla extract until smooth and creamy, then carefully fold in dry ingredients. Using your hands carefully divide dough into little logs and spread them out on a baking sheet before baking for 25-30 minutes depending on oven. Let them cool thoroughly before enjoying your new favorite energy suppository treat (nobody likes a scalded anus!).

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He told you about Mike and Elsie, huh? I love your father but he can be a little judgmental sometimes. You think he wouldn't be considering his family.

Well no honey they're. Mmm. I'm sorry. I get a little heated sometimes, thinking about my siblings. Imagine how you'd feel if someone started saying stuff about Becky or how the twins would feel if someone started picking on you. They're my brother and sister. I have a lot of good memories. Sometimes I wish they were better.

Your Nana and Papa, I can talk to them fine, but they don't like your dad. Not since the arrest. It's a shame, you think folks like them would be able to hold grace in their hearts for their only surviving son. I tried to get it through their skulls, I promise I did. You should ask Morgan about them, he may remember more than Nancy. They were on good terms with me after your dad went inside for a while. They'd visit and help me with Becky when I was getting the others into school for the first time. Then your dad got out...and they stopped wanting to come around and see him. They'd see their grandkids, sure. Not him.

Then I got pregnant with you. And they started getting opinionated about it. At the end of the day I'm not picking my husband's parents over him. Your father is a good man. Sometimes a good man makes mistakes. What's important is where you go from there, not if you have to throw out all those years together. You talk about it, maybe you separate for a while, and you see where life goes. They do send you kids money on your birthday and Christmas, and that's nice of them. But they could do more if they want to be worth being in your lives.

Plus, c'mon. You got Mama and Mom still. Trust me, they bake cookies for you all much better than Nana ever could.

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The crew owes 500 holos for bureaucratic fees, needs to find out a way to repair the Long Bones and needs to refuel it. In four hours Aurum 80 will become a hotbed of gang violence, making accomplishing these goals that much harder. It's up to Patience and Cassandra to make the first steps towards solvency and safety of the crew.

I am being handed a note from the future.

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Tonight on The Coffin Club: session zero, character creation and world-building for Death In Space. Grint forgets everything and leaves the past behind. Bea follows a light from the future. Sophie finds hope in dreams. Lavender should probably dig more than two graves before setting off on revenge. Everyone learns a very important lesson about putting your name on a lease for a shitty house. https://thecoffin.club

Ever go on a cruise and wish you could live there? Yegg Battallion gets to live the experience, for better or worse. Sixty-Nine goes off the deep end into religion. Deck embraces tradition. Pleather shoots down possible suitors. Sparky takes another crack at team-building exercises. Everyone gets to play dress up. https://thecoffin.club

Excerpt of Interview With Marisol Chapman 19/32/06
Q: So you shut down Galatea.
"We did."
Q: Controversial decision, a lot of your support base didn't approve.
"[laughs] I don't care now and I didn't care then. It was time. Galatea served its purpose. It was an open air lab, our testing grounds; when it became a theme park, that's when I saw the writing was on the wall."
Q: Better to cash out while you're ahead?
"Absolutely. If not, the House takes everything. I mean what do you want me to say, we didn't make miracles? We did. We're going to change the world, and that starts with everyone living forever. That's not the end of it. Isn't that wild? That's not the end."
Q: So what's next?
"I don't know. That's the funny thing about having enough time and everything you need to learn more and do more. I don't have to think about what's next. There will be something; new wonders, strange revelations. And we'll live to see them if we want to. I think that's more than enough."

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Bea, Jess, Lavender and Sophie play a one-shot of Marie Enger's Casket Land. We give it a fair shake but ultimately end up stopping the game to talk about our problems with the system and the ups and downs of using PBTA as a mechanical framework. Our apologies for the slips and assumptions of pronouns. https://thecoffin.club

With another victory obtained, the legend of Yegg Battalion cements itself in earnest. Sixty-Nine gathers the faithful. Deck sells out but in a cool way. Sparky appeals to a higher power. Pleather asserts her own authority and punishments. Everyone's problems are solved forever! https://thecoffin.club

Bea, Jess, Lavender and Sophie play For The Queen second edition. For The Queen is story-telling game about loyalty, honor, royalty and projecting what you think other people are onto them. That's why we made a perfectly normal Queen who is undoubtably human and definitely beholden to death, inertia and other human things. https://thecoffin.club

[RECORDING STARTS]

what's GOOD you fucking SCRUB welcome to BITCH CITY population YOU! YEAH! Fucking get some you weak-ass chinless FUCK. How the fuck did they let you in if your scrub ass can't land a fucking headshot, did you join the TEF so you can just fondle a gun and pretend it's your big fucking boner? Fucking idiot. Dominated your ass like we're back on fucking Spielberg, how the fuck do you keep losing so fucking much. Lucky fucking you, they're transferring me over to Y so I gotta stop whipping your ass for the glory of Terra and go do some REAL fucking work. They're gonna promote me and make a fucking statue of me dry-humping you while you struggle to jungle. Idiot. It's been real fun but let me give you some advice: fuck yourself and die, Paintball. Caveman OUT! [audio of Trooper playing guitar, song unknown]

[RECORDING ENDS]

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The chosen saviors of Okamura receive their just rewards. Pleather denies centrism. Deck abuses her authority. Sixty-Nine entertains a proposal. Sparky's just going through it, man. Everyone gets to see the rigorous and thorough process of mission planning. https://thecoffin.club

Why was the sky promised to me?

Why is it so far away?

I sang as a child. I don't now.

The flight of words upon the air,

wet emotion pouring from my breath,

I always pretend it meant something.

Childhood forever. Young forever.

A scream preserved in clearest amber.

Hands around my throat and I'm not a child.

I pray to dream that I am an animal.

My deepest wish is to be a bird.

But I was a beast of earth and dust,

A horse lead astray by wandering eyes,

On the edge of yet another drop.

And the Captain begged that I fly.

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Well we don't really talk to your mom's side of the family because we don't particularly. Like them, y'know?

Yeah, okay, Grandma Nina and Grandma Tess are the exception, we make time for them. It's your aunt and uncle who are the problem. Your mom's still got some positive feelings but I'm the outsider so I can bring a balance to that sort of thing.

So your Uncle Mike, he joined the military. I think he wanted to be a Marine but they ended up making him a drone jockey. He got involved in the surveillance push in the Thompson administration, was involved in Operation Radiant Beacon. I'll explain that when you're older but it's not a good thing he did that. I got in a fight with him one Thanksgiving before you were born. Talking about duty to the country and, well. Never join the military, Taylor, okay? No matter what they say. There's always a better way. I had Morgan and Nancy in my arms and Mike's screaming at me and I thought to myself, "hell with this, I got two toddlers and he's gonna lay into me over this? I don't care if he's her brother." Your mom and I talked about it on the way home. She wasn't happy. But she saw how he was talking to me and the twins and. Yeah.

Your Aunt Elsie...different story. Smart lady. I liked her a lot. Then one day something...shifted in her. She was educated, your grandmas got her through college. She even went Ivy League with a bunch of grants and debts. One day she calls your mom up, smiling wide, "I met the most wonderful man!". They get to talking, your mom hangs up, looks into him and immediately calls her back. See, uh. Sometimes, people hear what they want to hear and then ignore the red flags. There was a lot she shouldn't have ignored. I'll tell you when you're older. Important thing is she lives on his compound out in Montana now and even if we did invite her to holidays...she wouldn't come.

Sorry kiddo. I wish you could meet them. Family's important and you care for them, mostly. Family's still made of people.

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What's a great way to center yourselves after massive troop losses and horrors beneath the ice of an alien planet? Team-building! Wild Filibuster, Perfect Smoke, My Favorite Hope and Handsome Tropic have a lovely day of frolic, athletics, leisure and mandatory attendance with Yegg Batallion's First Inaugural Horse Race & Athletics Competition. Horses do their best now and are preparing. Everybody, please listen warmly until it is ready. https://thecoffin.club

Please See Database For Attached Incident File

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In the face of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, Yegg Battalion is rewarded with medals, promotions and responsibilities. Pleather experiences being Ratatouille'd. Sixty-Nine gets a glow-up. Sparky fights a toxic custody battle. Deck seeks tech support. Everyone lift, we can move this couch on three. https://thecoffin.club

IN A SUNDERED LAND
Rated 10 for dark themes, violence, sexual content and anti-Terra sentiment.
163 minutes
"In A Sundered Land" is the latest biographical drama directed by Jonathan Sweetman starring Liam DiFrancesco, Margaret Landeskog, Brianna Nordberg, Nasir al-Bukhari and Bigg Chanse. Set in District 8 in the first year of Unification, a governmental functionary (DiFrancesco) discovers a smuggling ring meant to empower a rising demagogue (Chanse) and his mission of secession. Complicating things are a firebrand journalist (Nordberg), a trauma doctor struggling to stretch supplies (Landeskog) and the uncomfortable history the functionary's husband (al-Bukhari) has with the land. Received the 17th annual Acclaim Award for Best Actor (DiFrancesco), Best Supporting Actress (Landeskog), Best Costumes and Best Song ("Mother's Land, Where My Spirit Lies", performed by al-Bukhari, arranged and orchestrated by Noel Valencia's Instrumental Orchestra).

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