Yes, it’s been a few weeks since my last blog update, but uh, we’ve been a little busy over here. 

The first and most important low-down is that the Mummy: The Curse Kickstarter has launched (link below). We’ll be looking to shout it from the rooftops through the holidays, since we only have until January 10th (a shorter pledge period than most projects). And on that score, we’re hoping some folks consider getting the book as a gift for a friend or loved one, since we know that’s where most disposable income goes this time of year. If you have gamers in your life, they could certainly do worse.

Mummy Corebook Kickstarter

The second low-down is that we can finally share the patented WoD “skull icon” for this new game. Enjoy.

Until next time,

Senebti!

(Design by Craig S. Grant, variant by Ian A. Watson)

I’ve just finished proofing the core set for Mummy: The Curse, ladies and gents, and I’m pleased to relate that it looks really good. And I mean good even for a perfectionist like me. Between the talented graphic designers and the gifted artists we’ve got for this (some of which art you guys have seen), I have to say that I could scarcely have hoped for better back when this game was still little more than a pipe-dream. We’re closing in on the home stretch, with only the Kickstarter launch left to finalize, and I wanted to take this opportunity to give you one last teaser for the core material before that happens.

For those of you who enjoy podcasts and/or audiobooks, we’ve got what I hope you’ll find a treat: My reading of the first-ever fiction for Mummy — a short story I asked my friend Greg Stolze to write, called “The Seven-Times Hallowed Mask.” It’s only 15 minutes start to finish, but for those interested in reading it for themselves, they’ll have that chance, too, as the story appears in the core set. But here’s your first look at it, along with an additional piece of not-yet-revealed art for the game. Enjoy.

The Seven-Times Hallowed Mask

Give it a listen, won’t you, and let us know what you think in the comments below. And again, thanks for staying patient and enthusiastic.

I hope you won’t be disappointed.

Senebti!

Enjoy!

The Masr Grail
Artist: Borja Puig Linares

O Pardal Vermelho
Artist: Aaron Acevedo

Rite of the Sacred Scarab
Artist: Borja Puig Linares

Here’s a look at a sample of one of the five Arisen guilds:

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The importance of funerary tradition in ancient Egypt is well known to even the most casual scholar of the age. The artifacts recovered from the period reveal this at every turn, as one notices the fine eye for ritual detail and the prevalent intention of preserving as much worldly wealth and reputation as possible in hopes that the dead would enjoy what they had acquired in life. Although these early cultures built vast tomb structures and spent ungodly amounts of gold, stone, and labor to insure such transferences of wealth, the preparation and intent with which they did so paled in comparison to the utterly zealous methods used in the Nameless Empire.

Although it was the Shan’iatu who crafted the Rite of Return from the darkness of time before time, it was the lesser priests of the Su-Menent who poured over the tablets, gathered the reagents, and prepared the bodies for the ruling elite’s sacred work. Unflinching and removed from the menial levels of politics, these death priests clung to the laws of their masters and developed a prodigal grasp of Irem’s darkest magics. They selected would-be members not only for the power of their minds and faith but also for their ability to stomach the bizarre and gory vicissitudes of the sorcerer-priest’s often cruel experiments, and the guild of shells manifested alongside the mystical operations that would one day make the Su-Menent eternal.

Between the advancement of this new magic and the never-ending need for the rites of burial and preservation, the power of the priests grew, limited only by the nature of their service. All peoples of Irem feared death, and it was the Su-Menent who shepherded the entire process. The Shepherds of the Chamber slipped a dark noose around the fears of the Nameless Empire, and in this way became great and terrible… if at a price.

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Until next time,

Senebti!

A Priest of Death

When you hear the word “cult” you might picture chanting figures in hoods performing sinister ceremonies in dimly-lit caverns. Many Arisen would agree, and they arrange their agents along tribal or religious lines: Obedience to Sekhem’s master is an identity, reiterated by chants, rites, initiations and behavioral prescriptions.  Those who serve are set apart, by expectation and by choice, from outsiders who cannot be allowed to see the reasons for their dedication—not least because they might not understand them.

While the Arisen command strange powers, their makers did not anticipate that, after thousands of years, they’d need to deal with paper currency and telecommunications. Loyal followers who can stay current for generations while their master slumbers are essential for bridging the gap between the mummy’s ancient mindset and the modern world in which they must operate.

To give players bands of aides who fit their personal style or desire, mummy cults break into three rough organizational styles. As described, some of these societies are set up along traditional lines and gather followers who are looking for meaning. This oldest structure doesn’t have to be religious, but can be. It’s robust, but needy.  Mummies who set themselves atop an authoritarian pyramid have to accept the responsibilities that come with being the unquestionable boss. Once your answers to the hard questions cease to satisfy, you aren’t just disappointing one person, you’re undermining the entire foundation of your position.

Arisen who prefer the mores of more recent ages often set up a conspiracy and tell their followers they’re working for the CIA or the Bilderbergers. This spiderweb catches a different breed of fly, one that isn’t looking for answers so much as advantage, preferably an unfair one. As long as a mummy keeps her amoral actors supplied with the money or information or protection they want, they pursue her agenda without much curiosity about what it ultimately is. You may not get a lot of initiative or loyalty in this structure, but if you have to have a disposable underling to throw under a bus, it’s consoling to think that he’s a selfish wretch who’d happily betray you if the price was right.

The third option, and probably the most modern, is to hide in plain sight with a legitimate enterprise. The group doesn’t have “run errands for mummies” on its mission statement—it could be a profit-generating private equity firm, or an NGO, or a think tank, as far as the outsiders are concerned. Moreover, it could employ scores of people, a veritable army of chauffeurs, receptionists, and research assistants.  Few of them need to have any idea what’s really pulling their strings. This type of group has the advantage of seeming as legit as the Boy Scouts or a Super PAC, because it is. Its drawback is that the salarymen in its ranks are far less willing to break the law. Even if they can be persuaded, they may not be any good at it. (If you’re having someone commit a crime on your behalf, do you really want it to be his first crime?) If you want something legal, and the advantages of being in the wealthy elite, this is a good choice. If you think you’re going to need bodies hid, you may prefer going back to the secret-name-and-handshake crowd.  There’s a reason they’ve been around so long, after all.

Until next time,

Senebti!

Minions? Allies? You decide.

A note on one of the half-dozen scraps of paper produced by phone calls with CAS says, “Fuck it, you start as the prince.” Like all brainstorming, it’s not exactly where things ended up, but it’s good enough to root this next bit. Mummy twists a popular formula: Invest time in your characters and you get to do cooler things, unlock more impressive challenges, and make your mark on the world. You level up, build your domain, and kick the prince’s ass. Over the years, various games have spun the formula. Maybe you start out as a badass and progress to universe-wrecking power. Perhaps the “you” in the equation is your player-self and you earn author-style narrative control. Whatever.

But fuck it. It’s Mummy. You can start out as the “prince.” If you want servants, you’ve got them. You step from the sarcophagus at the peak of innate power. And why not? You’re immortal. But unlimited time doesn’t mean the right time. The Arisen obey magical cycles, and try to synchronize them with their goals. There’s a big difference between a thousand years and the right year, week, or hour. You’re strong. The cult obeys your commands. But power is fleeting, and regulated by the god-things of Duat, the Underworld. CAS and Greg Stolze developed a great system to determine how the Arisen’s power ebbs and flows, and it plugs right into the game’s central themes. But watch out… Stolze is cruel.

The Deep Myths

One can design supernatural protagonists for the World of Darkness with two basic approaches. First, you can get archetypal with walking “builds” and “toolkits,” sacrificing specificity for breadth. On the other side, you can get specific, so their backstory and mythology sets the foundations. These are really poles, not either/or options, and like all contrasts there’s a little bit of bullshit, but it’s enough to define mummies further. The Arisen have a specific origin in the strategies of a Stone-Age empire, and the sorcery of its ruthless culture heroes. The Arisen remember fragments of the past; they want more. The virtual boxed set reintroduces the separation of player and Storyteller knowledge found in classic games to support this motivation (not to give Storytellers authority by hiding what the players need). Read what you want; the game organizes its mythology so that you’ll understand what characters know, and what they might discover about themselves over the course of a chronicle. This also helps the Storyteller determine when a mummy had uncovered an ancient secret — an act rewarded by Sebayt Experience, which can enhance her Memory.

Does a specific mythology make Arisen the only immortals around? That’s up to you. CAS’s vision of the World of Darkness hews to the original design documents, which discourage supernatural theories of everything in favor of lots of strange threads. Mummy: The Curse weaves together a world of Arisen, ghosts, magicians and monsters, but leaves plenty of undefined space for Storyteller expansion. Beyond the flow of Sekhem, the threat of the Devourer, and the remnants of the City of Pillars, the world contains anything you desire.

Until next time,

Senebti!

What Evil Lurks in Your Game?

During the Rite of Return, its subject truly died. He endured a gauntlet of knives, teeth, talons, and venom to stand before the dread Judges of Duat. Against the accusations and tortures of the final Judge, he pronounced a defiant summation of his being: a decree that favors one aspect of his fivefold soul. A mummy’s decree determines his general outlook and the part of his soul — the Pillar — to which he is most deeply and inherently attuned.

Here’s a look at a sample of one of the five mummy decrees:

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Rule from the chariot, not the throne. The high seat displays power, but doesn’t use it. If you don’t exercise your might, someone else does it for you. Your priests, scribes, viziers, cousins, board members… they’re all ready to take your command through the pretense of “advice” and “delegation.” A throne-bound king wallows in delusion and pretension, shouting commands he can’t enforce. He declares victory even while enemies tear down his palace. Eventually, he swallows his own propaganda. When assassins’ knives edit his superfluous life out of the state, nobody is more surprised than he is.

True strength is action—the thunder of chariot, bow, and mace. It emanates from the ba. When a mummy utters the decree of spirit, he ascends that chariot and promises to lead from the front. Even in defeat, his dedication is above reproach, and he cannot be dethroned except by his own hand. Ba is the inner voice that says, “I will do it.” So the decree cultivates taciturn humility and martial bravery, and perhaps a little impulsiveness. Followers don’t scorn contemplation, but rather believe it has no significance unless it translates into worldly action.

The so-called Charioteers roar out of their tombs, issuing orders as soon as Sekhem solidifies into a throat and tongue to speak them. Of all the decrees, they might feel the most desperate in the face of [redacted]. It limits what they can do with a given incarnation. He who hesitates loses a thousand years. Thus, they lead cults on the hunt before the plan is set, preferring to improvise instead of prepare, and often to micromanage instead of delegate.

The Charioteer prefers command but doesn’t demand on it. He recognizes superior leadership when it gets results, and attaches his loyalty to it without hesitation. In generals and grunts alike, the ba drives hard work in the service of a worthy cause and unhesitating sacrifice. Fear is the sweet spice of bravery, not the poison of hesitation. The Charioteer scorns emotions that might give him pause. Stillness is death, the chasm between cycles when the brave accomplish nothing. Follow a fast current along the river of [redacted] and you’ll drift past every pain or useless pleasure, until only your accomplishments remain.

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Until next time,

Senebti!

The Falcon-Headed Charioteer

In the ancient Egyptian belief system, the mortal soul was composed of five fully separate aspects: The Ab (heart), the Ba (spirit), the Ka (essence), the Ren (name), and the Sheut (shadow). Together, these five aspects conjoined to form the soul in its totality. For mummies — who are effectively ancient Egyptian souls made flesh — there is arguably nothing more than important than these five cornerstones, which they know to be the very pillars of their ceaseless existence.

Mummies believe each of these aspects to be both a cardinal manifestation of their own being and a manifestation of something wholly separate from themselves. A soul’s name, for example, was its master’s own, but the name itself also existed as a thing — able to be perceived, accessed, or even harmed — unto itself. Likewise the spirit, which at times leaves the body behind and flies ghost-like into the night, or the shadow, which stretches away from the body, occupying its own space… and role.

The pillars of the fivefold soul are so integral to the game’s protagonists and themes that they are represented by game Traits. Further, these Traits work to form the basis of a new departure in design philosophy for a World of Darkness RPG — a sub-system that flexes the muscles of the Storytelling System a little, while remaining true to its overall structure and design. Other game elements interact with, and occasionally derive from, this new Pillars system… including the way that mummy magic works in play.

Until next time,

Senebti!

The Soulscape

The radiant Sekhem within mummies anoints them with improbable good fortune and preternatural competence. This is no accident. The Arisen believe the capacity to manifest these Affinities to have been built directly into the Rite of Return, empowering them with the tools needed to fulfill their intended purpose. Unlike most forms of supernatural power, Affinities do not require training or a teacher and aren’t really learned in a conventional sense. Instead, they manifest reflexively (i.e., get added to a character sheet at the moment of purchase), whether during character creation or by paying experience. Often as not, the Arisen do not know they have a new Affinity until the magic first creates an effect or could do so, at which time they intuit their new capabilities. Many mummies are just as surprised by the Affinities they manifest as is the rest of the world.

Radiant Lifeforce

Prerequisites: [redacted] 2

Effect: The Arisen’s name is a secret beacon of lifeforce, sharing some small measure of its immortality with those around her. This provides the following mystical benefits:

• She may voluntarily suffer one point of aggravated damage to remove one temporary derangement from her mind. This damage leaves no mark on her, manifesting as painful lethargy. However, the spiritual exhaustion can still kill her in conjunction with other injuries.

• All living beings capable of purchasing Quick Healer within ([redacted] x 100) yards temporarily gain that Merit. Their players may keep the blessing permanently by spending experience, provided the character has sufficient Stamina. In such cases, exposure to Sekhem unexpectedly transforms and uplifts their lives. Mortals that already have Quick Healer don’t heal any faster within the mummy’s radiance.

• Her player can pay one Willpower point while she is touching an Incapacitated character, stabilizing that character’s condition as an instant action. He will not worsen unless he suffers additional injuries.

An Affinity for Magic

The dark miracles that are the realm of Utterances could scarcely be considered “natural” by any right-thinking person. It’s said that the power of Utterances flows from sources older than mankind, reaching back to the beginning of the universe and perhaps beyond. And yet they are also deeply personal expressions of Arisen Sekhem, a focused channeling of the powerful energies instilled by the Rite of Return.

While not intrinsically malevolent, Utterances almost always convey a “great and terrible” seeming. Their magic can only be called miracles, acts of God, or terms more profane. Even at their weakest, Utterances accomplish the impossible or reveal secrets that could not otherwise be gleaned. Where they help others, they do so gloriously and often with some price attached. Fate is beautiful, but not kind.

Each Utterance comprises three tiers of power, each of which is effectively a separate spell. Each tier has a minimum requirement attached to it, each of which comes from a different [redacted]. If a mummy doesn’t meet a given tier’s prerequisites, he cannot use that tier’s effect.

Dust Beneath Feet

Tier 1: [redacted] •; Tier 2: [redacted] (Curse); Tier 3: [redacted] (Curse, Epic)

Tier 1: The mummy is ultimately a creature of dust given form and life by the Rite of Return, infinitely more permanent than the matter that clothes his soul. As this tier unleashes, the mummy’s Sekhem bonds with the surrounding earth for an hour. He can extend the duration to indefinite within his tomb, but using this benefit makes the unleashing terminate as soon as he leaves his tomb. This earthen attunement grants the following powers and benefits:

• Whenever he suffers falling damage from landing on an earthen surface (glass, sand, dust, mud, clay, dirt, stone, gravel, concrete, asphalt, etc.), he can spend the next turn doing nothing but regenerating. If he does, he heals all damage from the fall, plus all bashing and lethal damage suffered on the turn spent healing. Even aggravated damage or fatal damage from falling regenerates, causing his crushed body to physically reassemble in the span of heartbeats.

• He can choose to swim through any inanimate objects made of earthen materials as though they were water, aided greatly by not needing to breathe. He can swim in soil beneath foes or down into the walls of a concrete bunker. His carried and worn possessions come with him, though he cannot take animate passengers. The material closes behind him as it was before, leaving no trace of his passage. This power also lets him do things like jump through a metal bank vault door like splashing through a light waterfall or swan dive through a parking deck’s concrete floor to land on the level below. While displacing matter, he can see that material as though it were well-illuminated and transparent out to ([redacted] + Sekhem) yards.

• If caught in a landslide, earthquake (like that conjured by the third tier of this Utterance), or other earth-based natural disaster, he instinctively swims through earth and regenerates from falls in such a manner that he finds his way safely to the surface without injury. He can manage this feat automatically, even while unconscious.

Dust Within and Without