"The idea of trying to 'cover this race' in any conventional press-sense was absurd: It was like trying to keep track of a swimming meet in an Olympic - sized pool filled with talcum powder instead of water. The Ford Motor Company had come through, as promised, with a 'press Bronco' and a driver, but after a few savage runs across the desert – looking for motorcycles and occasionally finding one – I abandoned this vehicle to the photographers and went back to the bar." — HST, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
As previously noted, GenCon 49 (August 4-7, 2016) was the first for me and Nicole. Pretty early on, I determined you can only talk about those things at GenCon which happen to cross your field of vision. Before I begin, though, a general statement:
I managed to meet (briefly, of course) a bunch of industry people over the past few days. With no exceptions, everybody was particularly gracious and enthusiastic. (The most enthusiastic person I met is probably Sandy Petersen — it's hard to gush about your game in a way that makes it really intriguing without sounding pretentious or self-aggrandizing, and Sandy does both those things extremely well. He's pumped about it, and now I'm pumped about it.) I mention this, because I had the following anecdote from Monte Cook in mind before I went.
It was the summer of 1991, at the GenCon game convention. I was still fairly new to the industry and my friend, Rob Bell, the Champions line editor, was "showing me the ropes" at GenCon. He asked me if there was anything I'd seen at the convention that interested me. I said that there was a really interesting-looking game with a rose on the cover where you played vampires. I had been interested in vampires since I was very young. I had written a research paper on the topic in high school, and in so doing practically memorized the encyclopedia entry for "vampire." (There weren't a lot of source options back then.) While this was before the vampire and goth subcultures really existed, among some of my friends, I was known as the "vampire guy."
Anyway, Rob took me over to a little table with one guy behind it. On the table were arrayed a number of freshly printed Vampire books. Rob chatted with the guy behind the table and introduced me to Mark Rein*Hagen. I told him that I thought his new game looked amazing and gushed about it a little. He silently listened to me with an expression that spoke volumes: I wasn't telling him something he didn't already know. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rob give Mark a knowing look and motion with his head toward me. Mark sighed, and then said as condescendingly as I’ve even been spoken to, "Here you go, kid." He didn’t need to add, "Now get away from me, son. You bother me," because it was already clear.
That was both my first and my last interaction with Mark. I did (and still do) love and appreciate the book.
Nothing like that happened during this convention — everybody was uniformly rad, even if they were somewhat busy. (Incidentally, Mark Rein*Hagen was over at the Chaosium/Petersen Games booth, promoting I Am Zombie. I likely would've spoken to him, but there's a surprising amount to do crammed into four days, and I tried super-hard not to be an annoying fan. Maybe next time.)
Anyway, since it makes the most sense, I'll try to tackle the majority of this chronologically. Photographs by either Nicole or me.
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
The trip to Indianapolis was spent taking turns driving and listening to most of The Disaster Artist. (It's just as good as you've heard.) It takes roughly ten hours to get to Indianapolis.
This billboard is yuuuuge.
Trump andvasectomy.com? Truly this is God's country.
USA! USA! USA!
Finally, we arrived.
Pictured here hiding from the Trump billboard.
We got to the hotel, which despite being about twelve miles away from the convention center, was pretty swank. Note the chemostat bioreactor hot tub.
I've been in apartments smaller than this. My hat included to scale.
We went to the con briefly, determined that the will-call line was completely insane, and decided to tackle it on the morrow.
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Nicole by the welcome sign. Featuring someone's random legs.
The will-call line was slightly less mad this morning, and we managed to navigate it with time to spare to get to our 10:00 AM game. We also met Eric Cartman:
If we didn't eat Cheesy Poofs, we'd be lame.
The 10 AM game was Black Forest Patrol for new World of DarknessChronicles of Darkness. We played American soldiers in World War II. Something weird happens — there's panic and fear and Nazi zombies. We finally trace the source back to a Nazi base, which has been overtaken by grey aliens doing some interdimensional something. Our radioman calls in an airstrike, which doesn't work (force fields or some such), but we end up destroying their plans the old-fashioned way: grenades and satchel charges. Our superiors probably thought we were nuts, but we saved the day.
We also uncovered this infinite bathroom. Spoooooooky.
We originally signed up for an Onyx Path freelancing seminar, but decided to (sadly) skip it in favor of the dealer's room. (We had our own shopping list, as well as rushputin's shopping list, so we had business to attend.) We had to pick up a bunch of Dungeon Crawl Classics stuff (in addition to the new modules and such, we also got a gaggle of Doug Kovacs prints, including his Moria piece for a Middle-earth RPG, possibly late-stage MERP; Green Mary; the classic DCC wizard corruption picture; and his take on Dürer's Melencolia I), peruse the new shirts from Lamentations of the Flame Princess (sadly, I otherwise had everything at the table), and swing by Modiphius in the hopes of signing up for the new Star Trek RPG playtest (and getting Kirk and Picard miniatures). We were largely successful while also getting to meet James Raggi.
The first and only time you'll probably see my dumb face on this blog.
I don't even know what's happening.
We also met Sarah Babe of Plot Points, working at the Modiphius booth. Having started listening to them, they largely cover industry news and product reviews — useful if you want somebody else to digest a thing before you decide to buy it. Check it out! (I was just listening to the one about Shadow of the Demon Lord, and while I was interested before, it just jumped to the top of my list.)
We also had the opportunity to talk to Robin Laws about Worldbreaker, a globe-spanning, apocalyptic campaign for Esoterrorists wherein the unthinkable happens and the esoterrorists come incredibly close to penetrating the Membrane. (Or possibly succeed, if your players fail.) We also learned about Fear Itself, 2nd Edition, at the Pelgrane booth. (I just learned that there's apparently a second edition for Esoterrorists, too.) I'll have to grab all these things at some near-future point, but I was largely budgeted for DCC at the convention.
Also also, we had the chance to talk to Sandy Petersen (and his wife, who was somehow even more gracious and excited than he was, if that's even possible) about his miniature games, Cthulhu Wars and Glorantha: The Gods War. He also teased an upcoming project that is a board game or miniatures game similar to his work on Doom, so that's exciting. We also managed to score some autographs from him. (And if I'd thought about it, I would have brought a bunch of Lovecraftiana to shove at him and get him to sign. Long-time listener, first-time caller.) Another situation in which I'll need to pick up more Call of Cthulhu, 7th edition stuff at some near-future point.
The rest of the day was subsumed in wandering. We returned to the hotel to rest for the night's event: Glitter Guild Burlesque. It was very good, although Nicole really summarized it well — there were so many acts that the whole thing was a little rushed. The acts were all pretty good, although the people doing DC Comics acts (particularly the people from Plan 9 Burlesque) really stood out. Despite all that, the hands-down best act had to be Bazkua Joe's Speed Racer. The guy got a standing ovation for reasons I'm sure the following video cannot fully convey.
Of course, in our show, he didn't end with the checkered flag, but with only the helmet.
Friday, August 5, 2016
After a somewhat late night, we missed Zzarchov Kowolski's book signing at the Lamentations booth, but we did revisit the Goodman Games booth to get the tome signed by the band. We also got Aeron Alfrey and James Raggi to sign stuff. (And we picked up one of Alfrey's Baba Yaga mini-prints.)
Greg Stolze, Cam Banks, Colleen Riley, Jeff Tidball, and John Nephew. If you followed the podcast blitz for UA3, there is nothing new or earth-shattering as Stolze discussed most of the revelations on the podcast circuit. Things include the idea of wiping away the metaplot as per Chronicles of Darkness, and tying the Shock Gauges into skills as per A Dirty World. Stolze's writing a new book (although he again said that the next Unknown Armies book has already been written, and it's Big Machine by Victor LaValle), and it's apparently going to be written in second person. So there's that. The Atlas Games crew also discussed probable release dates. They (unofficially, of course) expect to hit it earlier than April 2017, and they'll probably release ebooks and dice as they're ready. (They have to ship dice separately because adding dice to books throws them out of media mail and so changes the shipping charges.) The first three books are more-or-less in layout, and they're working on Book 4 and 5.
In personal news, they did a giveaway for your best Unknown Armies anecdote, and I won by describing my old Chicago game. ("A group in Chicago hunting ghosts and doppelgangers with their friend's magick-detecting erection.") I got a copy of Break Today on which everybody in the room (including the panelists) scribbled strange things.
Me, after winning that book.
We again wandered and rested, as we had a LARP at midnight.
The teeming throng of humanity.
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Midnight was "Nundercover" by Kettle of Fish Productions. They cite it as Cthulhu LIVE 4th edition, but it's actually a super rules-lite variant. There aren't any stats (unless you can do something special on your character sheet, like the super-strong nun who can break limbs and knock people out); just take logical actions and they'll probably work. The big rule is that you get tokens, and you can spend them to establish facts. ("Fortunately, I hid a gun in the desk earlier!") If something bad happens, you also spend tokens to not die. Pretty simple.
The setup was everyone is in a convent, and some people there are not nuns. (I was playing Paul Giamatti, preparing for a role. Another player was playing Anne Hathaway with the same rationale. Nicole, on the other hand, was playing Regan MacNeil, who joined the clergy after her ordeal.) The big issue we found was that comedy games are really hard to do (or possibly just hard for strangers to enter; the regulars seemed to have fun with it) — it was wacky and zany and we had no clue what was happening most of the time. It was fun, but not the style of Cthulhu LIVE game to which we are accustomed.
Return of the son of the teeming throng.
After sleep, we returned to gather autographs from Jobe Bittman. We then had a conspiracy theory panel, but skipped it in favor of the Delta Green panel. (The audio is available here.) Shane Ivey, Dennis Detwiller, Adam Scott Glancy, Kenneth Hite, and Greg Stolze. (I mean, if your options are a conspiracy theory panel without Ken Hite, or a panel with Ken Hite, the choice is obvious.) They went over some of the information regarding the Kickstarter, a few products coming down the pipeline (I'm excited for Hite's Fall of Delta Green — he had me at the psychedelic Burroughs option), and talked about some of the new rules and integrating the new Delta Green into the world. (If you're like me and missed the Kickstarter, there are now two Delta Greens — the reintegrated official one, that now has a massive budget but has to deal with bureaucracy, and the cowboy operation still out in the cold, which has no support structure but still plays by its own rules. Also, bonds act as sanity armor — so you can either go mad by yourself, or prevent madness by slowly losing touch with those around you. Fun times all around.) The panel got me pumped to revisit it, and I'll have to pick it up, you know, eventually.
We left the panel to go meet Zak S. at the Lamentations booth and get stuff signed, and managed to get there before the line got insane.
Zak and Nicole
We also had the opportunity to meet Charlotte Stokely and Stoya. I'm guessing it's odd that we primarily know them as D&D players, but them's the breaks. (I'm guessing it's also odd that there are famous D&D players, but them's also the breaks. Will role-playing games be added to the Olympics soon?)
I'm pretty sure interrupting a D&D game is a sin, but it was cool to say hello.
They talked some about Lankhmar and Michael Curtis' upcoming DCC supplement for that as well as some potential upcoming releases (like teasing Punjar 50,000), but the big news was the reveal that Goodman Games has the license for Dying Earth by Jack Vance with Jobe Bittman developing. It will be separate from DCC but broadly compatible.
With that, we returned to the hotel to prepare for the last day of Gen Con.
Sunday, August 7, 2016
We had only one mission today: the Goodman Games raffle. (We also got the pictures with James Raggi, seen in the Thursday entry. The camera always tells the truth, but it also always lies. Also, after days of attempts, we finally got our Kirk and Picard miniatures. Score! Also also, Nicole got a print of The Song You Sing by Nen Chang.)
The raffle, of course, began with awards:
Joseph Goodman presents the Enter the Dagon II championship belt
The champion!
Joseph Goodman presents the Carnival of the Damned trophy
The champion!
Jim Wampler and Bob Brinkman with MCC Reliquary of the Ancient Ones tournament trophies
And the winners!
Another winner!
The Warlords of the Purple Planet trophy
And the winner!
And then, the raffle:
It takes a while.
Many of the tickets were unclaimed (whether their pairs were not in circulation or their owners did not attend is unclear), so they eventually allowed those whose raffle number is off by one to claim prizes. One of Nicole's tickets and another raffler's ticket were each off by one, so it came down to a dice-off.
With that, we were on the road again. We finished The Disaster Artist before proceeding to Wigfield: The Can Do Town That Just May Not. (The audiobook is also as good as you've heard.)
Also, the parking garage stored their Christmas garlands here. For some reason.
These guys had Cartoon Network corporate backing, so maybe they don't count as cosplay?
Final Thoughts
Gen Con was very fun, but I think you have to go once and stumble through it to determine how best to tackle it in the future. Trial by fire. Next year is the fiftieth anniversary of Gen Con (and, perhaps more importantly, Zak's party), so I think we're going to try to go. And do it correctly this time.
(Plus, Unknown Armies will have released by then, so I'm sure there'll be something awesome at Gen Con.)
Also, there is nothing that has gotten me more jazzed about DCC than interacting with the DCC band. I was originally going to run some games (first DCC, then Unknown Armies), then (probably wisely) decided against it. Next time, I'd definitely like to do so. (But I'll probably just stick to DCC.) Playing more games next time would be good. (Admittedly, a lot of that was because I registered late. Ah, well.)
One last thing, to reiterate: everyone we met was uniformly generous, helpful, and enthusiastic. Every industry professional to whom I spoke got me jazzed about some game or other. (Naturally, it helps that I talked to people whose games I already enjoy, but still.)
The blog's been quiet as working more and running less has subsumed my activities (I've been playing more, but typically don't have much to say about that. A TPK here, a demonic incursion there. The usual.) Oddly enough, though, the D&D game I mention in the first post is still going strong (if infrequently). It's fifth edition now, and we just played Session 52, which should tell you how infrequently we play. (You can hear about it at the Crux of Eternity wiki and the Crux of Eternity tag.)
My blog post with the highest pageviews continues to be my commentary on the God-Machine Chronicle. (Most of my posts with high pagecounts do not feature original content, which I should probably take as some sort of sign.)
A comment on current events: I ended up hearing about Invisible Suns via D&D With Porn Stars (although I saw the mysterious countdown page last month), and I'm amused by the setup, because my old gaming group was doing the guerrilla RPG thing a decade ago. My only concern about the $200 price tag is that I would then be obligated to run the damn thing. It looks like my absolute jam, but getting my friends motivated to play anymore is exceedingly difficult. (I should probably also take my friends' lack of desire to play things I run as some sort of sign.)
So it goes.
The Gen Con after action report is still in development; I had another (less-fun) conference the following week, so work has understandably been busy of late. I expect it to be out by the end of this week.
This got bumped from last week's schedule in favor of the Convent of St. Brigid, but makes a nice post while I'm recovering from GenCon. I've been devoting headspace to the Isle of Anhak campaign, and I determined the Isle is apparently known for its artists. (Incidentally, if you want source information for the portraits that follow, just click the pictures below.) Here are three of them:
The Magnificent Joop van Ooms
Left to right: Ooms, Charles Paisley, Bluebeard; portrait by Jez Gordon
Joop van Ooms is a renowned architect and artist from Vor Taluum. I won't detail him at length, as he's basically unchanged from the module of the same name. (He's now in a different city — the fantasy city of Vor Taluum rather than 1615 Amsterdam — and his associates have different nicknames that are not dependent on real-world history, but otherwise unchanged.)
Yerffej Dlues'arabizea
Yerffej D.; portrait by Jeff Dee
Yerffej D. (for most non-elves have difficulty with his surname) is a haughty and aloof high elf living in Dolmvay. Known for sketches, paintings, and philosophical treatises, particularly on law and cosmology, some dislike his clean, almost dwarven lines, while others take issue with his contention that the Powers are not true gods, but merely potent-yet-petty entities undeserving of worship. (Those with a familiarity of the old Factions of Sigil might recognize the philosophy of the Athar.) Regardless, he's a popular resident of the District of Scholars, and many of the city's elite pay great sums to have him paint their portraits. While other artists may sometimes act as patrons to adventurers, Yerffej currently has a group in his employ. Called the Fellowship of Albritton, after the tavern in which they began their careers, this group delves dungeons looking for lost art for him to add to his collection (and to inspire him). Despite only being active a few years, the Fellowship of Albritton is relatively famous, comprising notable names such as Morgan Ironwolf, Silverleaf, Frederik, Sister Rebecca, and Black Dougal. (In private, those who consider them to be mere lapdogs of Yerffej call them "Dee's Nuts." The name, unfortunately, has stuck, and threatens to be more recognizable than their actual name.)
Ool Eurts
Ool Eurts; portrait by Erol Otus
Noted drow artist Ool Eurts is relatively popular among the Slave Lords of Scandshar. Exiled from the drow proper, Ool Eurts lives in the dwarven settlement of Baritherdar, the last bastion of dwarf architecture on Anhak. His art is somewhat grotesque — perfect for the decadent nobles of foreign Scandshar. Although the prestige he brings to grim Baritherdar is appreciated, many suspect he is secretly a drow spy, an embed sent to spy on the dwarfs. For his part, Ool Eurts cares little about what the inhabitants think, instead content to paint his paintings. Like the other two, Ool Eurts may act as a patron to adventurers, although his quests are likely to send parties into the Deepearth. (Like Joop van Ooms, Ool Eurts comes from a published module, having been mentioned by name in A4: In the Dungeons of the Slave Lords.)
A bit from the archives while I'm partying (read: probably sleeping) at GenCon. One of my associates (the guy who ran the Deadlands game, actually) started a D&D game. As of this writing, it died after two sessions. (A common fate, I find.) Although, I think he plans to resurrect it. Eventually.
Anyway, the game was set as three human kingdoms and two demihuman kingdoms (the gnomes used to have a kingdom, but it was destroyed during the war) are reunifying after a brutal twenty-four-year war against the monstrous humanoids. As part of the preparation, he had each player write a specific kingdom in the world. Since I put a lot of work into it — it's got history, geography, even sidebars! — I share it with you.
I was given the kingdom of Trias, and no guidelines to flesh it out. After brainstorming, I came to Papal States meets Warring States, with the end of the Han dynasty thrown in for flavor (I had just seen the abridged version of Red Cliff — it's so rad I got the five-hour unabridged version, although I have not yet carved out time to watch it — and had magnificent bastard warlords on the brain).
We're headed to GenCon, so I'll probably have an after action report sometime next week. It's my first convention of this size (my largest previously was Dexcon, which I miss terribly; longtime readers will recognize the very, very small Madicon as my current con in rotation), although Nicole once worked at it many moons ago.
Let's be entirely real, though: the selling feature was that James Raggi is going. (That Zak S. is also going is an added bonus.)
Author's Note: If you've read any of the articles going around about roach milk (here are examples from the Toronto Star and CNN), you already know everything you need for this blog post.
Customizing the Setting: The convent depicted below assumes an early modern setting, as per Lamentations of the Flame Princess. (St. Brigid's association with hedges and witchery may even suggest that this is the unnamed convent from The Pale Lady. Alternately, the convent's insect veneration may also suggest this convent is in Germany, somewhere within the vicinity of Karlstadt, as per Better Than Any Man. Or perhaps both or none of these things are true.) If you're using a standard fantasy setting, make it a convent (or monastery, or other cloister) representing a prominent religion in the region. (In Isle of Anhak, for example, I'd probably use the Church of Pelor-Who-Is-Paladine.) I'd assume the nuns or monks are level-0 nobodies (maybe with a level 1 Cleric for an abbot), as are the townsfolk, but if you want to make it a monastery of D&D-style kung fu badass monks trained to protect the secret of their temple, feel free. Names and locations have been left deliberately vague for Referees to adapt to their own campaigns.
Off the beaten path, there is a little village where all is well. (In true Lake Wobegon fashion, "all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.") Containing 105 residents, the village is primarily thatch huts and a few wooden buildings. On the nearby hill is a stone convent with an attached chapel; the residents come here for services on Sundays.
Of interest to adventurers, the village has a store for general provisions and tools (and they will also accept trade or engage in resale), although almost no weapons. The local carpenter can make arrows, but that's about it (if you place the settlement near water, he's also a boatwright; otherwise he just repairs and builds the wooden buildings in town). The local smith doesn't make weapons (he'd no doubt make weapons or metal armor if you asked him, but I wouldn't trust the quality), although he does do a bit of leathercrafting (so leather armor is available), and he also sells tools. One of the local wives does some sewing and mending, so clothing (even fine clothing if you've got the coin) is available. Travelers can also receive medical attention through the local church. If you need a scribe, one of the acolytes will no doubt be able to help. There is no inn (not even stables), although the local families will no doubt be willing to put up travelers if they're willing to do a few chores. (There might only be enough room for a couple of people to stay at a house, so the PCs will likely need to split up to stay the night.)
The townsfolk are all friendly and earnest — perhaps a little too earnest, just to make the PCs paranoid. Observation indicates this is genuine, as they even interact among themselves in this fashion. They're strong, attractive, and healthy. (If your game is set in The Dung Ages with filthy, pock-marked peasants, this is probably the first clue that something is amiss. Even if not, it should be described as being somewhat uncanny.) The only notable difference in their habits is that they drink a lot of milk. A lot of milk. Some residents may even be observed consuming nothing else — no food, no water, just the ubiquitous milk. If asked about their apparent good health, they will readily attribute it to the milk, and encourage the PCs to try some. If asked, they say that the local convent produces it.
It looks like regular milk, but tastes a little odd. For starters, it's as viscous as cow's milk, but tastes the consistency and thickness of buttermilk. It combines several flavors that one wouldn't expect — it mostly tastes like cow's milk, but it's got a bit of the creaminess of butter, the savoriness of cheese, the saltiness of goat's milk. There's also a savory fat taste to it, like roasted meat (or more accurately, fried chicken skin). It tastes rather odd, but once the initial surprise is overcome, most people rather enjoy it. (Imagine fast food in a world without it, and you can likely understand how it could become popular.)
Consuming the milk also offers a couple of benefits. For twenty-four hours after consumption, the character gains a +5 bonus to saving throws vs. poison, and all healing is doubled (including magical healing). Most importantly, the milk acts as liquid rations. You still need to find an adequate source of water (which is why townsfolk tend to consume so much of it), but a pint of the milk acts as a day's rations. (Assuming a typical wineskin holds two quarts, that's four days' rations. If you prefer metric, about two liters is a single day's rations.)
Drinking the milk for the first time requires a saving throws vs. poison, made at a -5 penalty, to see if the character is addicted to the milk. This addiction is subtle, but pervasive, almost subconscious. The character seeks to have some milk each day; not necessarily a lot, but at least a mouthful. (It's remarkably resistant to spoilage, and so carrying a cask of it will keep someone supplied for quite a while.) More importantly, the character will do anything to make certain the milk supply is not threatened. The character doesn't feel a compulsion to guard the convent or anything like that, but the character will respond to any credible threat against the convent. If you're halfway around the world and hear a rumor that bandits are threatening the convent, you'll probably traipse back to make sure everything's okay. If border patrols look like they're going to crack open your cask of milk and dump it out, you will prevent them from doing so. If you know the secret of the milk (as detailed below), you'll make sure no one threatens it. (Up to and including your companions.)
There is a more insidious effect of the milk. For each week of regular consumption (assuming some milk per day), the character makes a saving throw vs. poison. The first week, this saving throw is made at +20; each subsequent week of consumption, this saving throw takes a cumulative -1 penalty. If a character stops consuming the milk, this penalty fades at a rate of 1 point every two weeks. (So, if you've been drinking the milk for six weeks, you make your saving throw at a +14, and so probably do not risk side effects. If you then avoid the milk for twelve weeks, your saving throw will again be made at +20 the next time you encounter the milk.) Failure means that the character starts mutating slowly, gaining 1d4+1 random mutations at a rate of about one every month or so — if you're stuck for a rate, say 2d10+20 days between mutations. (Use Carcosa or The Metamorphica or your favorite random mutation list to dispense mutations; if your list includes multiple types, you should probably stick to physical and physiological mutations rather than psionics or super-powers or whatever, but that's up to you.) Although the mutations occur slowly, they start immediately — so if you're getting wings in a month, you'll probably have two scaly and sore nodules on your back in about a week which will then sprout and grow in size until they are fully-functional. Astute observers will note that mutations may very well begin after a character has stopped drinking the milk, or may compound if a character continues drinking the milk.
It's up to the Referee as to whether or not she makes these saving throws in secret (thus leaving the PCs to wonder why they've started gaining weird mutations), or in public (thus leaving the PCs paranoid about what the milk is doing to them). It likely depends on your particular playstyle, group, and what you think will get the PCs most involved.
If PCs get suspicious about all these attractive peasants, they'll likely go to the convent on top of the hill to investigate. The convent is dedicated to St. Brigid (although Referees are encouraged to conflate her with the goddess Brigid and/or the Swedish saint Birgitta Birgersdotter), and maintains the convent by raising cattle and harvesting the milk. (They also sell baked goods using the milk, so cakes and pies are available.) The nuns will sell their milk for 4sp per pint. (They usually sell it to townsfolk for 1 or 2sp per pint.)
Suspicious observers investigating the local ranch will note (1) that the nuns don't have enough cows to supply the town with all this milk, and (2) that some of the cows aren't even dairy cattle, instead being more appropriate for leatherworking. (In fact, the local smith pays the convent for their cows for just this purpose.) The nuns are friendly, but for obvious reasons, are disinclined to allow men into their nunnery. They'll still be somewhat standoffish with women if it becomes apparent that they're snooping, and so may give them a tour but will quickly try to get rid of them if possible. If inquiries become obvious, they will stonewall as much as they can. All the nuns are addicted to the milk, and while they try to avoid violence, they will easily kill to protect the milk supply.
The tale runs thusly: some months ago, the convent began suffering an infestation of roaches. They thought this was a normal problem until the roaches swiftly began getting larger and larger, resulting in these pale, white beetles about the size of a dog that got into the food stores and started making a huge mess of things. (The little bastards bite, too, and the bites tended to abscess.) The nuns put out quiet inquiries, and before long, an adventuring party appeared to handle the problem. They traced the monster roaches to the catacombs beneath the church, finding that a wall had collapsed into a natural cave system. Therein, they found a giant cockroach, giving birth to these monstrous things. (Smaller cockroach nests were also found, but weren't nearly as interesting.) The adventurers being adventurers, they thought it safer to deal with the thing by collapsing its tunnel. Gunpowder was involved, but an accident resulted in the adventurers being trapped with the monstrous roach. Strangely, however, they found it left them alone as long as they didn't attack it. (It, and the other roaches, seem content to feed on the lichen that grow naturally in the caverns.) However, only planning on a quick expedition into the caves, food quickly ran out, and the adventurers took to killing and eating the white immature cockroaches birthed by the giant mother. By the time they dug themselves out of the caves, they were addicted to the milk found in the immature cockroaches, and had learned that they could consume the milk directly.
Isn't she lovely?
They presented their findings to the nuns, somehow convinced them to try the milk themselves, and the rest is now history. Once the mother stopped producing young (nobody has been brave enough to ask what monstrous cockroach must have mated with it), the nuns found they could stimulate milk production by feeding ground up male cockroaches to the mother. Removing the liquid and crystal slurry from the cockroach's hindquarters is somewhat unpleasant work, but it pays the bills and keeps everyone happy. The nuns also mix the roach milk with water and dairy cow milk to make the taste a little more familiar and to stretch out the crystal supply. (Although they've got a surplus to last them quite a while.)
If someone tries to kill her (a likely outcome, assuming they're not addicted), the St. Brigid roach has 7 hit dice, armor as plate, and a bite dealing damage as a shortsword. (That's AC 18, +7 to-hit with a bite dealing 1d6 damage in LotFP terms.) She scuttles as fast as an unencumbered man (120', or 40' per round), although she's pretty sedentary most of the time. (She seems to enjoy being milked, as near as anyone can tell.) If she ever ran out of fungus, she'd get more aggressive, but that doesn't seem to be a problem yet.
Good luck trying to murder a well-armored and angry roach the size of an SUV in tight caverns, though.
There is a possibility that the St. Brigid roach is related to the Shab-al-Hiri Roach, although whether this is accurate is up to the Referee.
