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[i]The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.[/i]
[b]H.P. Lovecraft[/b], "The Call of Cthulhu"

[img]http://i1366.photobucket.com/albums/r777/patrick_harkin/innsmouth_fish_packers_inc__by_malakh7_zpsfdbitvrc.jpg[/img]

The year is 1928. As Europe enjoys the fruits of its post-War restoration, America's side of the Roaring Twenties is tempered by Prohibition and the subsequent rise of organised crime, neither side quite ready for the coming Depression. New technologies - the motor car, the radio, motion pictures - have redefined modern life. As mankind fills the air with light and noise, they inch unknowingly closer to their terrible fates. For the world they prance through is not theirs, not wholly. There are things older than man, older than thought, that lurk in the dark places of the world and in the darkness between the stars. There are cults and secret societies plotting in high rooms and low cellars; there are quiet places in which the blasphemy festers. There are things man was never meant to know, and he was never at greater risk of learning them. 

In the Misktanonic river valley of upstate Massachusetts lies the city of Arkham, home to the notable Miskatonic University. The ancient,
mouldering, and subtly fearsome town in which we live – witch-cursed, legend-haunted Arkham, whose huddled, sagging gambrel roofs and crumbling Georgian balustrades brood out the centuries beside the darkly muttering Miskatonic. 

Shortly following the death of Dr. Henry Armitage, the head librarian at Miskatonic University's famed Orne Library, a fire broke out in the library and destroyed many valuable books. Once the fire was contained, it became clear that the fire was more than mere arson, but theft; many books from the University's special collection had been taken, including the Necronomicon. Two of Dr. Armitage's fellows at the University - Dr. Francis Morgan and Professor Warren Rice - seem especially concerned with the theft of the rare books. This is where you come in. As an associate of the University, perhaps a former student, or even a police detective or PI, you have been contacted to locate the missing books for the Orne Library. 

[b]Fair warning:[/b] This game will be based on the horror writings of H.P. Lovecraft and his ilk. Familiarity with these stories isn't necessary, but suffice it to say that they are [i]bleak[/i] and [i]horrific[/i] stories and the game will try to reflect that. This isn't a game about superheroes or wizard ninjas and you are far from immortal. Death, madness and worse are very likely to happen to your character and if you're not okay with at least that risk, please reconsider.
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[hider=Miskatonic River Valley]
This crumbling corner of New England lies north of Boston, in Essex County, along the north-eastern coastline of Massachusetts. It encompasses a number of fishing and industrial centres including Kingsport, Innsmouth and Arkham, the latter being the region's 'capital'. 

[hider=Kingsport]
[img]http://i1366.photobucket.com/albums/r777/patrick_harkin/the_strange_high_house_in_the_mist___concept_art_by_mcrassusart-d9ilqwh_zpsmepwsaio.jpg[/img]

Founded in 1639 by settlers from southern England and the Channel Islands, Kinsport was an early fixture of the local shipbuilding industry that brought much wealth to the region. Local history shows Kingsport was swept up in the witch-burning craze of the time, an import from Salem to the south, and hanged four witches in 1692. During the Revolutionary War, Kingsport's merchants turned privateer and this led to a British blockade of the harbour. More recently, a downturn in sea-trade during the 19th century caused the local economy to weaken significantly, shifting from commerce to fishing to support itself. Kingsport's historic architecture, though crumbling, is a local tourism draw and during the summer months the well-to-do often rent Kingsport homes to enjoy the sea air and marvel at the striking, sheer cliff faces that shelter the bay.
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[hider=Innsmouth]
[img]http://i1366.photobucket.com/albums/r777/patrick_harkin/innsmouth_fish_packers_inc__by_malakh7_zpsfdbitvrc.jpg[/img]

Founded in 1643, the coastal town of Innsmouth is a rotten carcass of its former self, where the Manuxet river disgorges into the Atlantic. Its many dense buildings speak to a time of prosperity, when trade routes with the South Seas were clear and lucrative, but now these buildings rot and fester, the worst nearest to the seafront. Historically, Innsmouth owes its continued existence and what livelihood yet remains to the Marsh family; Captain Obed Marsh's fleet was the only still bringing in wealth from the south by 1828. His descendants are now deeply entrenched in Innsmouth's culture, providing most jobs in the area at the Marsh Refinery and the local Masonic temple. 
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[hider=Dunwich]
[img]http://i1366.photobucket.com/albums/r777/patrick_harkin/the_colour_out_of_space___concept_art_by_mcrassusart-d9sl6y6_zpsntab5txn.jpg[/img]

Sitting inland, upriver from Innsmouth and huddling against Round Mountain, they say that the only way one comes to the small village of Dunwich is by making a wrong turn. It sits in a lonely and curious rural area, with long stretches of sparse marshland broken up by run-down farmhouses, bullfrogs and the occasional ravine. Local farmers have recently encountered problems through the loss of cattle to animal attacks, though what sort of animal has never been precisely defined.
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[hider=Arkham]
[img]http://i1366.photobucket.com/albums/r777/patrick_harkin/leeds1930sjimmys_zpsfeluk4r1.jpg[/img]

Arkham is often described as 'witch-haunted'; during the Salem Witch-Trials many concerned Salemites decided to tactically relocate to the smaller and more stable town sitting on the Miskatonic. The locals naturally concocted many stories of these newcomers, leading to a rich folklore and strong culture of gossip. Like many towns along rivers and coasts, much of its early history was one of fishing, trade with nearby Boston and industry. However, Arkham's path to notability began in 1754 when John Dunham returned flush with cash from overseas trading expeditions and put that money to work establishing an institute of higher learning; Miskatonic University opened its doors in 1760 with a class of 24 male students, mostly Bostonians, taught by three professors who covered literature, history, math, science and medicine among them - and occasionally Dunham himself would deliver lectures on religion. The university would grow to become one of the nation's most venerable and respected learning institutions. By the 1920's, the town has a population of 15,000 permanent residents, with over a thousand on top of that made off University students. 

Map: [url]http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/map_images/505967/Arham_Map.jpg[/url]
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[hider=CS Template]
[b]Name:[/b]

[b]Age:[/b]

[b]Gender:[/b] (Remember, it's the 20's. Gender equality hasn't quite kicked in yet!)

[b]Nationality:[/b]

[b]Appearance:[/b] (Can include a picture, but some text at minimum. No anime pics)

[b]Profession:[/b] (How does your character survive? Why do Morgan and Rice contact you to look for missing books?)

[b]Psychological Profile:[/b] (The "personality" section. Also covers any mental issues.)

[b]Mythos:[/b] (Numerical value, starts at 0*. Represents insight into the secret truths of the world. Will go up in play.)

[b]Sanity[/b] (Think of it as "mental HP". Starts at 10**, will go down in play.)

[b]Personal Effects[/b]: (Inventory, equipment, etc. Remember, 1920's. No cellphones or rayguns.)

[b]Correspondence[/b]: (Write a character or journal entry as your character about how you came to the attention of Rice and Morgan. Doubles as a writing demo***.)

*If you want to start with Mythos at 1, PM me with a justification of HOW your character comes to learn some hidden awful truth of the world. Not the truth itself, but how you got there. What near-miss with a cosmic abortion, what horrific dream-visitations, what long studies into books bound into human skin got you there?
**If you want to start at Sanity under 10, that represents some major traumatic event or psychotic your character has had above and beyond a manageable mental illness such as minor depression. Again, PM to explain.
***Also introduces a backup character in the recipient of the letter or the reader of the journal - if something bad happens to character A, character B can arrive following the letter.[/hider]

[hider= Dr. Henry Armitage]
[b]Name:[/b] Dr Henry Armitage (Deceased)

[b]Age:[/b] 73

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Nationality:[/b] American

[b]Appearance:[/b] 
Dr Armitage was a stout and commanding presence among his stacks, living hale and hearty into his old age with little sign of growing frail or senile. He always dressed most respectably, in every aspect the gentleman of letters with a smart (but inexpensive) suit and thin, practical spectacles. 
 
[img]http://i1366.photobucket.com/albums/r777/patrick_harkin/armitage_zpsywyi1bcg.jpg[/img]

[b]Profession:[/b] Head Librarian of the Jeremiah Orne Library (Former)

[b]Psychological Profile:[/b] Dr. Armitage was an extremely intelligent and diligent worker, as evidenced by his high academic achievements - with advanced degrees from Miskatonic and Princeton and a doctorate from Johns Hopkins. However, his ambitions never matched his aptitude and he seemed quite happy in the relatively humble position of librarian, in spite of his lofty qualifications. A level-headed and stubborn person, Dr. Armitage was well-known for his common sense and his firm resolve, rarely budged from a course once he set on it. In the weeks and months before his death, those close to Dr Armitage noted that he grew darker and more serious, withdrawn and introspective. 

[b]Mythos:[/b] 3

[b]Sanity[/b] 6

[b]Personal Effects[/b]: Dr. Armitage was found with several letters half-written in his jacket pocket, his pocketwatch and pocketbook. That last item was written in some kind of shorthand or cipher that none have been able to dissect.

[b]Correspondence[/b]: 

[i][Letter found on the person of Dr Henry Armitage, deceased]

Rice, Morgan. 

You know the time and effort that has been devoted to the collection, those rare and often unique texts I have assembled for the enlightenment of the minds of our students and faculty. In my old age I come to regret that assemblage, to look back on my actions as a young man with appalled horror and dread. The image it all brings to mind is a rope-maker recognising his own handiwork hanging from the gallows he is being walked to.

You have no doubt heard through faculty gossip that I have set up a cot in my office and have ventured home to my wife at our Pickman Street abode rarely, only for new changes of clothes. Dr. Hartwell of the medical school has expressed concern, especially after the episode I experienced when I finally cracked the Dunwich cipher. A man needs rest, he has said to me, but you two know perhaps best of all that rest is no longer something we can tolerate. He thinks I do not remember the injection he gave me that day.

It is a dreadful sensation, as if being dripped on from the ceiling by some black, oily substance. Little pieces, fragments of text I found to be pleasing poetic nonsense as I explored odd books, are now congealing. Into what I cannot yet say, not with any certainty. I suspect I could labour a hundred more years, master a hundred more languages, and still not have the syntax with which to confer understanding. What was begun in Dunwich is [TEXT STRUCK THROUGH REPEATEDLY]

Do not return to Dunwich. There is nothing more for us there. Promise me that, my fellows, my friends. Three of us went up the hill and I hope the two of you can come down the other side. Leave me atop and listen for my call. I call now. A man with bulging eyes was seen attempting to gain access to the restricted collection, but he fled before I could confront him. The logbook at the front desk only records the name "Olmstead R". I fear Mr. Olmstead may be hungering after something not dissimilar from that W.W. came for last year. Please, be on the lookout.

-Armitage[/i]

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