Arkham Lounge Turn 7: Buried on a Sunday (Patreon)

[X] [RAT] Classes at Gotham U: The Rat Piper would continue to hone their scientific acumen, using the money that would have been spent on food to instead pursue an education in one field or another, such as chemistry, biology, or some such.

-[X] Finance

[X][CURSE] The Curse of Blanchard: Amadeus would collaborate with Miss Marianne Blanchard, opening up a small clinic and hiring on a few women doctors to help attend to the medical needs of his patients as well as provide better care to members of the fairer sex. This was, by the standards of the era, incredibly feminist: the pair even managed to convince Gotham University to begin admitting its first batch of women medical students. Unfortunately, this collaboration would cause Amadeus to gain the ire of one of Blanchards would-be-suitors who, despite the doctors relationship with Blanchard being entire platonic and Blanchard having no interest in the man who was pursuing her, would begin harassing and stalking Amadeus, haranguing and threatening him with violence, blaming him for Blanchards disinterest in him. Amadeus becomes targeted by a creepy nutjob who blames him for getting rejected whose behavior WILL escalate. However, Arkham Asylum starts out with better medical and psychological care, especially for women.

[X][Shine and Wine] Bowmans Strangest: The Bowmans apparently made their own wine, and it was, somehow, remarkably high quality. They apparently had bred their own variety of elderberry to make it, giving it a unique flavor profile. The only flaws with Bowmans Strangest was that it was only produced in small batches, it was somewhat weak, and when imbibed enough it occasionally caused mild hallucinations.

[X][Person of Interest] I am Vengeance

-[X] Four days ago Felicity watched her home burn. Three days ago she watched the sheriff spit on her families' graves. Two days ago she burned his own house down. Yesterday she learned who lead the Klan to her old home. Today Ghostfire will do the same to him.

!!!!GOTHAM!!!!

Trigger Warning: A lot of klan stuff. Also some spoopy stuff in the swamp.

!!!GOTHAM!!!

GOTH COUNTY HERALD, SEPTEMBER ISSUE, 1901

FIRES IN DOOMWOOD!

Disaster grips rural Goth County due to colored construction conflagarations! Doomwood, a small village located in Western Shadowcrest, has been subject to a series of fires caused by what has been referred to as improper building practices by local sheriff, who has ruled out foul play. Already, at least eleven people across three different families have met their end. 

The first such incident occurred on one stormy august 30th, with the Kearney farm catching fire after the family had gone to bed. Due to crude attempts at boarding their doors to prevent burglary, the family found itself unable to escape, with only one survivor, the 16 year old Felicity Kearney. Having been spending the night in the woods, the young woman has narrowly escaped death…

!!GOTH!!

Those bastards murdered them. The sheriff, his men. Ma, pa. Benjamin. Prudence. All gone. Martin boarded them in and laughed as they died SCREAMING. He called them animals as they burned to death. 

They’re going to pay. EAch and every one of them. Starting with the sheriff. He lives alone. I’ll have to be careful to avoid getting caught by his dogs, but I still have Pa’s gun if i need it.

!!GOTH!!

GOTHAM WEEKLY, SEPTEMBER 27th

DOOMWOOD SHERIFF MURDERED!

Three days ago, the Sheriff of Doomwood was found burned alive! The 42 year old Martin Silver was found in the remains of his barn! Police suspect foul play, citing the fact his remains seemed to be tied to a chair. When asked if they had any suspects, they declined to respond, citing…

!!GOTH!!

God. I did it. He’s dead.

I don’t feel better. My family are still dead.  I guess it’s good to know an evil man cannot hurt anyone now.

I’m still alone.  But just as I can’t bring myself to take satisfaction from the screams of agony Martin made as he cooked to death, I can’t bring myself to stop, not yet, not when there are more people out there who participated in the burning of my home. I must keep moving.

The sheriff told me that he had been sent because someone hungered after our land. Easier to acquire if its owners were all dead. Since I’m alive, it goes to me instead, at least so long as i am not suspected for what happened to Martin. I see two futures: one where they attempt to purchase it me for a pittance, taking advantage of the fact I now have nothing.

Or they will attempt to finish the job by murdering me.

My only options are to run or fight. The former is little better than selling, perhaps worse because I will then truely have nothing. 

I have 27 bullets. I will need to make each and every one count.

!!!!GOTH!!!!

Alfred Casefile #1

The Doomwood Fires

After a rather riveting conversation with Mr. Jones, I have decided to take up mystery solving as my own little hobby. I’m still deciding on what particular topic I wish to explore, but I’d rather leave the monsters and ghouls to the specialists, and I’d rather this remain a hobby so contemporary crime is right out. Otherwise it will be a bit too close to working with Master Bruce. 

Of course, Gotham is no stranger to other, more conventional sorts of mysteries in its history, such as the Doomwood Fires, so named for its proximity to the small and very sedate burg of Doomwood. Ironically, despite the name it remains one of the safer parts of Gotham county to nest in these days. 

One rainy October morning, a man by the name of Carson Holmes (no relation to any other Holmes of note), a local farmer and proud member of that rather unpleasant organization with the white robes and hoods, was found dead. Joining him in entering the post part of posthumous were several other figures identified in the aftermath as farmhands, neighbors, and business associates. 

The total death toll is, to this day, disputed, ranging from anywhere from 27 to 58, all perished from the very lethal condition known as 'locked in an on-fire barn'. This is in the wake of a series of other fires across the county, initially identified by the papers as faulty construction by the African American population of Doomwood. This lasted right until the unfortunate incident where the town sheriff was found tied to a chair and set ablaze: though no human culprit was found, it was undeniable now that at least some of these blazes were acts of man.

The following months are peppered with reports of arson, shootouts, and other acts of sabotage and murder. Curiously, the acts seem to take on a different tenor at this point, changing both in target and methodology in the area around Doomwood, making me suspect that we actually have two different firebugs on our hands. 

Alright, you’ve made your first vigilante. Much like supervillains, I have simple rules for these guys: unless you’ve gotten your hands on some esoteric power juice, already set up a legacy they can inherit, or built them up before-hand, they start at street level and have to build themselves up from there. 

Unlike the Rat Piper, Ghostfire is facing significant opposition comparatively: the Klan is not a small organization, and it has many fingers. The good news is, this means that she’ll likely develop useful skills much faster and she has an in-built reason to want to keep her identity secret. The bad news is, this also means it’s going to be pretty ugly if that secret identity ever leaks and that she’s very likely to get badly hurt as she gets on her feet. 

Much like the Rat Piper, however, I’m willing to give you a bit of a head-start. Felicity Kearney doesn’t have much, but with her civilian identity intact for now, she has time to build resources and learn skills under the radar. Action code [Ghostfire].

[ ] Felicities Apprenticeship: Felicity would sell the family farm, using the money to begin learning a trade that could be used by her public identity to make money as well as aid in her more illicit activities in one way or another.

-[ ] Pick a profession, like locksmithing, stage-magic, gunsmithing, etc. Felicity Kearney begins apprenticing in that profession in her public life, gaining both the associated skillset as well as a mentor. 

[ ] Ghostfires Patron: Felicity would find herself mailed by her long lost uncle, who would relay his sincerest condolences, along with a promise to help Felicity support herself, both financially…and in her pursuit of justice, sending money and an item they believed would aid the young woman in her pursuits. 

-[ ] Pick an item: it can be a gadget, a tool, or even potential storyline lead in like a treasure map or a mysterious book of some stripe. Felicity gains it along with financial support by an unseen patron. 

[ ] Kearneys Wrath: Felicity would quickly realize her skills as a vigilante were limited to ambushes and arson. Bribing the proprietor of the Lounge (and using her fathers death to help guilt the magician), she would find herself put in contact with Charlie Capers, who would help her gain experience by providing her a very particular job.

-[ ] Write in the job here. It will serve to help grant assets and experience: for instance, a burglary might help train Ghostfire in stealth and lockpicking, while being extra muscle when  helping take out a rival gang would make them better in a fight. Further, this will provide Felicity with a semi-reliable criminal contact. 

!!!

It was early morning as Josiah found himself paddling through Gotham Swamp, kerosene boat-lamp shining, providing him some dim illumination. It would be a few hours before the sun rose to provide illumination: at the moment, however, all was dark except for the glow of the stars and the pale bloody red of the slowly setting moon. 

Pausing for a moment, doing his best to ignore the croaking of amphibians, buzz of insects, and occasional bird-cry, the magician pulled out his map, which he had borrowed from Abigail to help locate one of the homes belonging to the old covenmembers of the swamp witches that gone to war with Cyrus Gold. She believed he was using it to help her find herbs and ingredients in the swamp that the witch could use in her magicks, which, strictly speaking, wasn’t untrue: he was simply also visiting some of the other locations she had mentioned at the same time. 

Looking at the map, he then looked around, taking the boat-lantern and lifting it, shining it around the edges of his vessel. The various ashes and swamp cedars would have their long shadows stretch and twist in the flickering illumination of the lamp, and to Josiahs consternation, he would occasionally see the lamp illuminate the eyes of various beasts in the dark.

Shuddering, the man returned the lantern to its pole before sitting down and returning to rowing: he had seen two of his landmarks, the Sinking Stone of the Quakers and the Willow. Rowing between them, he continued, counting the trees he passed until he felt his boat come aground on something. 

Getting up to look, Josiah noted he seemed to be on an island.  Taking care to make sure there were no alligators around, the man stepped ashore. He was here. Firefly island, marked down by a crude doodle of a bug on the map: according to Abigail, it had the plumpest, juciest fireflies in all the swamp. 

Also a handful of huts that Abigail had never entered. When she had mentioned that off-hand, Josiah had seen dollar signs. Stepping out of the boat, the magician made sure to grab a jar for the insects as well as a bug-catching net, stowing the latter in his belt as he retrieved the lantern, before walking ashore.

Covered in dense grasses, the soil was surprisingly firm, which is to say that Josiah’s boots only sunk in as deep to the ankle. The small island was, indeed, covered in fireflies, which he made sure to collect as he traveled, filling up the jar. Every so often he would pass a tree, and he would occasionally spot an alligator staring at him. The lizards were motionless, sitting in the quiet and dark of the island and only staring, a few tracking Josiah with their gaze as he passed: these, Josiah made sure to give an extra-wide berth while keeping his free hand hovering above his gun in case he required violence. 

It wasn’t long until he found his target: a trio of stone walled huts sat, orbiting a single circle of stone that Josiah wagered was a fire pit. Glancing down at the jar of fireflies that sat full of tiny dancing lights on his waistband, right next to his gun, Josiah decided he had collected enough Miss Roth: time to collect for himself. 

Whistling non-chalantly, extremely confident he was alone, he walked along the walls of one such with cottage until he had acquired the door. Going for its handle, he experimentally tried it, noting it was locked. 

Giving an experimental knock, when no reply was forth coming, Josiah squared his shoulders up and began trying to slam the door open via his body-weight. The sound of his body hitting the wood caused some of the wildlife to startle, filling the air with the sound of squeeks and chirps: in the distance, Josiah heard a splish-splashing sound. Likely it was a gator coming to investigate. Giving it another slam, and then another, the door finally gave way after the fourth, swinging open. 

Clicking in satisfaction, Josiah entered the building, pulling out a bag as he entered the (presumably, as Josiah had no idea who else would live out in this proverbial wasteland) witches hut, his lantern showing a simple one room hovel covered in thick layers of mold and fungus, the moist conditions of the swamp combining with the lack of light to make a veritable paradise. 

Swallowing his desire to retch, Josiah quickly scanned the room: there was in the center a pit, a circle of stones in which a tilted over cauldron was lying, surface covered in a thick coat of rust. On the far wall was a shape that he was willing to bet formerly a bed. On one side, a book-shelf: he’d need to check and see if the contents had survived. On the other…

His eyes widened in glee. Eureka! Giving a soft giggling even as he heard something howl in the distance, followed by a loud gurgle from some god-forsaken swamp amphibian, Josiah crept forward, looking over the collection of trinkets and talismans, carved from bone and stone, some made from swamp-wood. Mostly, it was kitchen-ware and what appeared to be weights. There were also jars, full of preserved organs, mysterious tarlike substances, and a few containing strange embryonic creatures floating in a substance that, when opened and revealed to Josiah’s nose, smelt more than a bit like embalming fluids. 

His customers would eat this up! Quickly, Josiah would quickly load up, grabbing the sturdy feeling glass containers and placing them in his sack alongside the choicest of talismans and gewgaws. Outside the hut, just barely within hearing range, he heard the snarling of a gator, and a meaty ripping noise, barely audible in the eerie silence: either it had caught some prey or it had fallen prey to something else, causing Josiah to shudder. The sooner he was out of this swamp, the better. Still, the beasts killing each other was probably for the best: one less to accost him on the way back to the boat.

Walking to the shelf of books, Josiah would bring his lantern in close to examine the things intently, the thief noting the entire bottom half was unsalvageable, being covered in a thick black grimy mass of oozing rot. Past that, most of the tomes on the shelf were in bad condition. “Well, that’s unfortunate,” Josiah said, something putting him on edge, though he couldn’t tell what just yet. Testing out one tome, he attempted to pull it out, only for its spine to immediately begin crumbling.

Growling in frustration, Josiah began testing out the other books, only finding three still in readable condition. There were a few that might be repaired or restored, but he’d need to come back a different time and, likely, book the services of a trained professional first.

The three tomes were, sadly, not in english: one appeared to be some sort of herbology textbook written in spanish, one was an illustrated, leatherbound tome that was written in what appeared to be latin, and the last appeared to be dutch. Quickly stowing them away, Josiah turned, intending to finally exit the hut and make the trip back to his boat and then the Lounge…

Only for his lamplight to illuminate the shape of some unknown person, standing in the doorway, causing Josiah to let out a shriek of surprise, the man barely composing himself. “Ah, h-hello. My name is Charlie Capers,” He lied, quickly coming up with a lie even as the looming figure stumbled forward. “I’m here at the behest of Gotham University to collect artifacts: we’re doing an exhibit…on…” He stumbled, realizing that the person was covered in blood, and he immediately shifted tactics. “Listen, I have money: if you let me go I can make you a very wealthy man,” He said, swallowing dryly as he inched backwards, realizing how large the figure was, easily being two heads taller than Josiah, himself on the sizeable side. “Just-just stay back. I have a weapon!” He said, the stink of rot overpowering.

The figure was close enough to see their clothes properly now: black, soggy rags, drenched in mold and moss, hanging loosely off pale skin, dripping fresh crimson on the ground below. Josiah pulled out his pistol, brandishing it. “I said stay back! I’m warning you!” He yelled, heart beating faster and faster as the figure ignored him. “I said stay BACK damn you! Don’t force me to defend myself sir!” He pleaded. “Please!”

The shape paused for a moment, tilting its head, before letting out a low, gurgling groan, before leaning forward, revealing its visage and causing Josiah’s heart to stop. It’s skin was the pale blue of a corpse, remnants of its lips equally and deeper discolored, the parts that weren’t hanging in loose, fish-nibbled flaps hanging over dull brown teeth set in black, oozing gums. The creatures nose was broken, bent upward in an awkward position, nostrils forced to point at its right eye, which drooped low, an entire side of the creatures face looking like it was sloughing off, half melted. The eye on that side was a milky white, discolored, overly large, and almost spongey looking, while the other appeared to be entirely black.

“...Born on a monday…” The creature groaned, continuing to walk forward. “...Christened on a tuesday…”

Josiah pulled the trigger, a hole appearing in the chest of the monsters, making it stumble and give a snarl as it continued its awkward stride. “...Got married on a monday…” The creature said, tone full of wrath  as the magician continued to shoot it, the bulletholes doing nothing to stop the increasingly angry looking monster. “...Took ill on thursday…”

The horrors head snapped backwards as Josiah shot it in the skull: this at least proved enough to knock the creature down. Once it had lie motionless for a second, Josiah gave a sigh of relief, approaching it.

Kneeling down next to the monster, Josiah examined it: now lifeless, it stared up at the ceiling, eyes empty, mouth hanging open. “It’s dead. Thank god, it’s dead,” Josiah murmured, standing up. “It probably died from the first shot, even: hitting it in the brain pan expedited the process, but whatever this is, its probably like a chicken, able to keep running around minutes after an otherwise lethal wo-”

“GOT WORSE ON FRIDAY!” The creature yelled, grabbing Josiah by the ankle, nearly knocking the magician down as it gave a roar, squeezing its grip hard and making its hostage give a cry of pain. “DIED ON SATURDA-” Josiah smashed the firefly jar into its head, shattering it and stunning it long enough for its grip to loosen. Quickly, Josiah ran, exiting the cottage, not looking back behind him.

Passing by the corpse of a gator that had been torn in twain by its mouth, Josiah accelerated, adrenaline filling his limbs as he passed through the area in a blink of his eye, retracing his steps until he had reached his boat.

Leaping into it, he began to quickly paddle, paddle, paddle as fast as he could, leaving firefly island behind. Glancing behind him, Josiah saw standing on the shore a slowly shrinking figure, one that continued to stare at Josiah as he paddled his boat away…

Before slowly continuing after him, stepping into the swamp. 

!!!GOTHAM!!!

Violet raised an eyebrow, watching Josiah pace back and forth, the man clearly distressed. “Well. An unkillable corpse-man in Slaughter Swamp,” She commented. “It’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard since being incarcerated, but its definitely a contender. You sure it’s not just some fella in a costume?”

“I shot him in the head point black and they didn’t die,” Josiah emphasized, hyperventilating. “I filled him with every bullet I had, Violet! And he just…kept…coming! Singing some…some riddle rhyme!”

The pair were currently in a visiting room at Blackgate. Violet on one side of the bars, dressed in a striped prisoners uniform, lounging in a metal chair that was nailed to the floor, body relaxed, while in Josiah’s side the wooden, cushioned chair that was provided sat unused. 

“What was it singing, anyways? I assume it’s not vaudeville,” Violet responded, making Josiah shudder at the thought.

“It was…Hmm. ‘Born on a monday, christened on a tuesday, took ill on wensday…’” Josiah said, rattling off what he remembered even as his former employee raised an eyebrow.

“...Boss, that’s not a riddle. It’s a nursery rhyme. Solomon Grundy: my mother used it to help calm my sister down when she was an infant,” She explained, causing Josiah’s eyebrows to shoot up as well.

“Well, the horrible walking corpse apparently knows mother goose, how wonderful,” The stage magician drawled. “You wouldn’t happen to know the whole thing, would you?”

“By heart.” Violet asserted, before clearing her breath.

“Solomon Grundy,

Born on a Monday,

Christened on Tuesday,

Married on Wednesday,

Took ill on Thursday,

Grew worse on Friday,

Died on Saturday,

Buried on Sunday,

That was the end,

Of Solomon Grundy.”

Josiah gave a slow, rattled sigh. “Well, at least we have a name we can append to whatever that was: Solomon Grundy, monster of slaughter swamp,” He muttered, before shaking his head. “But enough about that: I didn’t come to trouble you about my woes. How have things been?” 

Violet frowned at him. “Oh gee, they’ve been going just swell Mister Arkham,” She said, voice dripping irony. “I get free room, free board, and best of all I’ve stopped getting mail from my parents. Going to jail because my bosses feud was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“...Point taken,” Josiah admitted. “I’ll do what I can to see your stay comfortable at least-”

“I’d prefer you do what you can to make my stay END, but I’ve long since learned life is full of compromises.”

Josiah sighed, frowning. “Violet, my time and resources are not infinite. I am sorry you got caught in my crossfire- I am, truly- but you are not my only concern.” He stroked his goatee. “Though you are correct in that I could have perhaps put at least somewhat more effort into freeing you,” The magician admitted, the closest he could come to apologizing for not prioritizing the freedom of his employee.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Y’know what, sure, I’ll take it. Not like I can afford to tell you to go jump off a pier anyways, seeing as how you’re currently financing the few creature comforts I AM currently allowed. To answer your question without the sass, Mister Arkham: things have been probably better than they oughta be for a girl in my positionh,” She admitted, giving a shrug. “I eat better than most in this pit, I get more time in the yard or in the library, I get to order my books and get my subscriptions mailed in, and Jacobs occasionally mails me a goodie sent from the kitchens or from the market.”

…Well, it was the best that could hoped for at this juncture. “But enough about me: how are things in the Lounge? I’ve heard from Mark that your little brother has been having problems with his hospital?”

“Cousin,” Josiah said, pursing his lip tightly, before finally sitting down. “And not really: thanks to Miss Blanchard, the place has been staffed in record time. Amadeus has just received his first taste of public acclaim and thus has earned his first anti-fanatic.” He shrugged. “It will blow over, most likely, but the man isn’t used to receiving such dedicated hate mail. Otherwise, things have been fine: we’ve recently expanded our drink selection somewhat: elderberry wine from Bowmans.”

From there, the two of them continued to chat and converse, Josiah blissfully unaware of just how wrong he was.

And thus we conclude our turn, and move to the next. Dear reader, things are going to get very, very spicy going forward. First, let’s handle our hotspot: now that we’ve chosen who Amadeus is collaborating with primarily, he’s going to be fishing for a financial investor. Whoever he takes is going to have different stipulations, requirements, and long term effects on the Asylum and it’s facilities. As always, the code is [HOT]

[ ] Harold Harris and Davis Jacobs: Harold had recently begun pursuing a career in finance, studying finance and business at Gotham U and using the education, lack of bills, and small stipend he received from his ‘subjects’ to create a very modest fortune which he intended to give back to the community via creating a ‘rodent therapy’ program at Arkham Asylum where inmates can participate in a rodent rearing and breeding programme created by Harris to help rehabilitate them socially and emotionally. Davis was also willing to contribute financially, but his biggest contribution was likely to be in the field of carpentry, by helping build a school the asylum could use to help educate its more lucid patients. Arkham Asylum receives a small investment from Rat Piper, resulting in rodent therapy program, as well as the opening of a school that will be used to help educate inmates. 

[ ] Chalmer Chill and Abigail Gluck: If Josiah was pushing it, Chalmer was willing to invest, even if it was unlikely he was to receive a return. Using the money, Amadeus was able to hire a team of lawyers to help represent the Asylum and it’s patients, expand medical facilities underground to the caves underneath the island, and construct a theater on the island to help entertain patients. Gluck had also offered her assistance, motivated in part by spite at Chill: she would help electrify the island by creating a generator for it: Der Beast, as well as mechanizing the place both for patient security, staff convenience, as well simplifying the running. Arkham Asylum receives comically large novelty check from Chalmer Chill allowing it to expand administrative operations and facilities considerably, as well as The Beast generator. 

[ ] Cyrus Pinkney and Solomon Wayne: Two individuals that Amadeus had met during his attendance of Gotham U: now that he was no longer simultaneously working at New Bedlam and the ground-work was already being laid for Amadeus’s asylum, the former, an experimental architect, wished to aid by constructing a series of facilities such as a greenhouse, a clock-tower, and small indoor village for patients and a highly modern yet secure penitentiary for inmates. The latter was a judge, one interested in using the Asylum to develop more effective and modern techniques for criminal rehabilitation, ones more sophisticated than shoving them into the rat-hole known as Blackgate. Arkham Asylum gains improved and expanded facilities, nice and tasty government checks, and also begins pioneering the science of criminal rehabilitation. 

Please be aware the curse you selected will get worse. For now, it is letters. When it ends, there will be blood.

But that’s enough being ominous. We now arrive dear reader at that point in the story where we discuss your decisions, and what opportunities have arisen for you to once more rig the deck of destiny. 

Bowmans Strangest is going to have strange effects on the patrons of the Lounge. It was already a place of madness, but now it’s accelerating, growing more profound and insightful. You can shape the madness that it creates, use it to inspire, either brilliance, delusion, or mania. Or you can play a frame card, and simply bask in the increasingly dionysian nature of the Lounge: either way, Hand of Madness is going to be upgraded based on what option or frame card you play. 

First, let’s see our frame cards. You decided to do something VERY regrettable, and Josiah earned a number of highly dubious artefacts and books, but more importantly came in contact with a still undercooked Solomon Grundy. I’d say that, and your deal with the devil, is suitable enough for a new card.

Full Moon over Gotham: Gotham is a liminal space, a city with one foot in the shadows. Josiah has, irrevocably, made sure that the St. Majeste also sails in dark waters: the Lounge is not a place of magic. It is a place of mystery, illusion, darkness, a place of madness and terrible supernatural horror, a mirror of Gotham itself. Craft a horror or dark supernatural themed event: it will occur on the next full moon. Increased potency for anthology style horror tales. Can be used for free without overwriting Skein of Fate opportunity ignoring cooldown once per in-game and out of game year, in Fall: this will produce a halloween event. 3 Turns Cooldown. 

Hand of Madness: You can whisper into the minds of your patrons susceptible to your influence, accelerating and manipulating their madness to achieve your desired fate. Enhanced potency while drink selection is toxic.  Allows for manipulation of madness. 4 Turn Cooldown. 4 TURNS UNTIL CAN BE USED.

Financier of the Future: The Manager had embarked on a venture that had them acting as a major financier for one or more people and projects. You could use your hold over the manager and their wallet to help grease development along. Enhanced potency when revenue is GREEN. Additional potency at BLACK increasing every rank after that. Can spend an additional Manager AP upon a major venture that you are already backing. No Cooldown, but costs LARGE amount of revenue.

And for the record? If you want to use Bloody Moon Chronology to terrorize or hurt someone, you can. And Halloween is just around the corner.

Here are your options for ways in which you can twist the madness of the Lounge. Note that if none are picked and a Frame Card instead used, the frame card that is selected will be upgraded instead in a way that you’ll just have to speculate on. As always, [Power of the Lounge]

[ ] Feast of Mania: A more benign shape: some members of the Lounge would begin exhibiting a particular, if unusual, enthusiasm for a particular topic. This in turn would begin attracting more customers, those also afflicted by this particular mania.

-[ ] Pick a topic: it can be a hobby, it can be a topic of interest, it can be an obscure field of science, I’ll even accept ‘amateur inventors’ so long as you get a little more creative with the topic. The Lounge gains an associate organization consisting of patrons obsessed with the chosen topic. Hand of Madness gains a bonus to cultivating manias and obsessions, as well as improving skill growth when used on a particular patron or organization. 

[ ] Spark of Inspiration: Manipulate the folds of genius, and bring out from their brain the juices of innovation. A patron of the Lounge would have an idea for some manner of revolutionary technology, produced in an absolute frenzy.

-[ ] Give me a short idea for a piece of highly advanced technology: it could be airship schematics designed by Gluck in a weeklong sleepless session of insane crunch, it could be a Lounge upgrade like an experimental thinking machine designed in a fit of mad insight by a student of Gotham U, etc, but whatever you pick, it needs to fit the aesthetic and its creator will suffer moderate sanity damage. Further, Hand of Madness gains upgraded potency when used on Science related characters. 

[ ] Fires of Delusion: A more virulent shape: the madness would be shaped, turned into a mental contagion, spreading a common delusion through Gotham. A strange cryptid. Lights in the sky. Perhaps a secret milkman conspiracy.  Rumors would be its vector, thoughts and stories its reservoir, and the mind the means by which it would evolve. Though remember, not all phages are inherently harmful…

-[ ] Build-a-rumor. Giant man eating bats in the swamp? Alien mailmen working in a titanic mailing complex underneath Gotham? Chief Garret is secretly a clone? Get weird with it: it won’t be true, but people will believe it is. And in this universe, rumors have a power all of their own: who knows, you might just stumble into a self-fulfilling prophecy if you play your cards right going forward. And if it doesn’t happen, well hey, it’ll at least be another interesting wrinkle to the texture of Gothams history. Plus, Hand of Madness will get a potency bonus when creating and spreading mass delusions. 

And we have it all. The meat is done, we’ve had our veggies, now onto the potatoes. First, a summary of how you’re doing. Things have been stable, mostly: not exceptionally good, but you haven’t made any goofs and you probably still have a modest amount of savings left after your expenditures last turn. The rent from the cabins is another source of revenue, and your Regrettable Museum at least has more varied artifacts now that Josiah is showing off the crap he found in the hut. Combined with the investment into your suppliers and drink selection and Josiah is enjoying the peace for now, with his money sitting at a cool GREEN.

That said, it’s not gonna last: this upcoming turn, unless you figure out a way to seriously hurt him, Garret is going to take a hostile action again. Much like a bad ex, he’s gonna keep showing up to make Josiah’s life hell until Josiah breaks or he does. But hey, at least you’re forewarned. 

And with that, we’re going to skip the list of acts and assets. We have an info-post for that now, one that’ll be updated before this update goes live on sufficient velocity but probably not before it gets put on Patreon. Instead, we’ll just skip to the acts: I want another Josiah one again. A magic act of some stripe: your choice, of course, though if you do a repeat I’d like if you spent an additional AP trying to figure out how to upgrade it on top of the performance. 

Action code is [ACT].

Now we get to the Manager AP. 

First, on the topic of improving your act, at a minimum one AP has to be dedicated to [Performance]. Instead of adding a positive requirement (IE ‘it must be used like so’) I’m going to mix it up. You dear readers are instead getting restrictions: you cannot hire new performers (training assistants don’t count), you cannot upgrade a singular act, and you cannot train a skill. 

For Josiah’s next AP, [War]! This turn, I want you to go out and do something as the Opaque Shadow: the only rules is it has to target either Garret, the Kanes, or the Klan. Blackmail, burglary, assassination, kidnapping, hypnosis! 

Then we get to the [Regret]. It has to, in some way, be a follow-up of the incident in the swamp. Maybe Josiah goes back to the huts to continue looting them. Maybe he attempts to hunt the Grundy. I will also accept acts that are not in and of themselves regrettable, with the caveat that they still contribute to the storythread, such as investigations into other locations of the swamp, asking Abigail for information, hiring security to keep the Grundy from climbing aboard, doing more witch related research, etc, though note that this is just postpones the eventual next bad decision (and, admittedly, leaves Josiah in a better position to weather it and come out the other side victorious).

Lastly, we have [Roth]. Josiah needs to stay in her favor: that means favors, but it also means being social. I want you to come up with an idea for something he could invite the Slaughter Water Witch to participate in to deepen their affinity with each other as business partners or friends (depending on the chosen activity). Keep in mind the season, Josiah’s assets and connections, and what you know of Abigail.

Now we get to the Employee AP. Last turn you focused on Lounge renovation: now you need to spend an AP on Mr. Bart to help keep pace with Edison when it comes to production, lest you fall behind. This can be further improving the prototype in order to simplify its design for production, you could build a workshop on the Lounge to begin producing bespoke Projectocorders via commission, or you could invest in getting the beginnings of a factory set up. Just keep in mind, you only win the Frame Card if the Projectocorder becomes a bigger name in the history of film than Edison, and that means getting it into other peoples hands.

(I’d also suggest putting more than a minimum when it comes to the topic: this is, in many ways, a race, and while slow and steady does win the marathon, dear reader, having a brisk pace does help.)

And lastly, now that we have a healthy selection of patrons, you’ve unlocked a patron AP: each turn, you’ll be allowed to pick the decision of one of your patrons. Much like other AP, there are various restrictions on this. For now, we’re going to use someone who hasn’t gotten much love yet, one Chalmer Chill! That’s right, you get to decide what this corrupt, racist billionaire spends some of his time doing this turn. It’s not quite Jeff Bezos simulator, but it does mean you get to either have the Ring start doing something to mess with the Germans, have Chill invest in a particular industry, or have him plan an expansion to the Arsenal of some stripe. The only immediate requirements: it can’t be an obviously terrible idea. More will be added as I see peoples suggestions, but for now, you have a millionaires checkbook and rolodex to work with. Go nuts. Code is [RING].