2d6-roll-over game play inspired by Nate Treme's Tunnel Goons. Moral quandaries inspired by Dylan Thomas, T.S. Eliot, and Michael Moorcock.
Once we trod like gods upon
The crowns of lesser kings.
Water rose and walls fell down.
We burned bright, diminishing.
You were scions of Atlantis.
Emissaries, mercenaries, masters of the lands around the Middle Sea. Ordinary people craved your favor. You were gifted with extremely long life, great virtues of body and mind.
You became arrogant in your ways, and cast down or lifted up the rulers of lesser lands at your whim. You were greatly resented, but your gifts were hoarded.
As a punishment from powers above you, or as a simple trick of fate, your homeland succumbed to earthquakes and floods. It has vanished.
Your long life is burdened by memories of family and companions lost in the catastrophe. Moreover, after the loss of Atlantis, your supernal virtues diminish. You long for the comforts and refreshments of home, but suffer in permanent exile, seeking the precious remnants of your home that could sustain you.
Occasionally you rise above your miserable fate and shine with the glory of your heritage.
You are Hobos.
Once we trod like gods upon
The crowns of lesser kings.
Water rose and walls fell down.
We burned bright, diminishing.
You were scions of Atlantis.
Emissaries, mercenaries, masters of the lands around the Middle Sea. Ordinary people craved your favor. You were gifted with extremely long life, great virtues of body and mind.
You became arrogant in your ways, and cast down or lifted up the rulers of lesser lands at your whim. You were greatly resented, but your gifts were hoarded.
As a punishment from powers above you, or as a simple trick of fate, your homeland succumbed to earthquakes and floods. It has vanished.
Your long life is burdened by memories of family and companions lost in the catastrophe. Moreover, after the loss of Atlantis, your supernal virtues diminish. You long for the comforts and refreshments of home, but suffer in permanent exile, seeking the precious remnants of your home that could sustain you.
Occasionally you rise above your miserable fate and shine with the glory of your heritage.
You are Hobos.
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