by Rachel Gray
Hours: Between 10pm and 4am daily
By appointment only (unless you are just about to die, in which case, please stop by as soon as possible)
As luck would have it, an outbreak of typhoid descended upon Arkham. West was beside himself with joy. Sure, the university suffered and nearly closed. Plenty of people died. Arkham residents lived under a shroud of terror. But for West, typhoid offered a wealth of bodies, free of embalming fluid, ready for reanimation. And oh, how fresh!
Eventually West’s nemesis, Dr. Halsey, succumbed to typhoid, depriving poor West of his well-deserved vindication. But West made the best of it. He hijacked Halsey’s body, reanimating him.
Finding himself snatched from the claws of death, Halsey showed his appreciation by mauling West, and setting out upon a typical zombie rampage about town. Eventually, a band of searchers captured the undead dean, and unsure of what to do with him, they tossed Halsey into Arkham Sanitarium.
After such a harrowing experience, and nearly being discovered by the authorities, you’d think West would halt his reanimation experiments. Okay, maybe you wouldn’t. He does seem a bit like the obsessive type. And thinking things through really wasn’t his forte.
Instead, a bandage-covered West simply muttered to his assistant, “Damn it, it wasn’t quite fresh enough!”
THE BOXER
Clearly West needed “exceedingly fresh” dead people. Just his luck, a boxing match nearby delivered a “still-warm” body/victim to West’s door. The unfortunate boxer received a knockout punch of the permanent type.
West quickly injected the boxer with his serum. Then West settled back and waited. Nothing happened. So West and his assistant hauled the corpse off to the potter’s field. Everyone makes mistakes.
The dynamic doctor duo’s impatience returned to haunt them. The boxer made a last minute comeback, appearing on West’s doorstep for a visit—politely knocking on the door, although he was gnawing on a child’s arm. Horrified by the zombie’s actions, West unloaded six bullets into the creature.
WHAT NOT TO DO WHEN
YOU’RE A REANIMATOR
Don’t reanimate unfresh corpses. This tidbit comes right from the Reanimator himself.
Don’t reanimate the dean of your university, who is likely to go on a rampage. In the end, this causes myriad academic problems for you, and most likely you’ll never get that diploma.
Just leave dead boxers out of it—they’ve been hit in the head enough, and will be unstable when reanimated.
Never assume that the dead man you just reanimated is still dead! Think carefully about the concept “reanimated dead person” before you leave his body behind. For some reason, the dead are never grateful, and leaving a string of revivified corpses spells trouble for you in the future.
Don’t set up a practice in your hometown, under your name. This helps avoid dead people from finding you. Honestly, if you do this, you might as well have a big arrow pointing at your house added to all local maps, and maybe a billboard on the highway saying: This way to the Reanimator’s house. The bottom line is, if you are playing with dead things, try to be discreet.
Lock your doors. Simple, but amazingly efficient when dealing with the undead.
If you’ve locked your door, don’t answer it if a zombie comes knocking.
Before starting this whole “experiment with the dead,” consider a chemical to reverse the process. This would be called a safeguard. Maybe it sounds outlandish, but when an Undead Tactical Strike Force decides to launch an assault on you, it’ll be worth the time spent.
You’re alive—they’re dead. Do the math. It’s well known that dead people resent the living, particularly the living that reanimated them.
If you’re the assistant to a Reanimator, leave. That’s it, just leave. Dr. Reanimator is injecting every dead thing he stumbles across, and things will go bad soon enough. Don’t wait around. Move to another town, change your name (see above for precautions).
By this point it might appear that West would realize the whole reanimation thing wasn’t working out. His biggest success ran riot about town, and was now incarcerated in the asylum. His other success consumed babies. Clearly West’s career choice needed to be reconsidered.
WHAT’S THAT SMELL?
After a long and much needed vacation away from West’s House of the Dead, the assistant returned to find an exuberant West. And, what a surprise, a dead body.
A weary traveler paused at the farmhouse to ask directions (sound familiar?), and just happened to keel over from heart trouble. Such a lucky break for West, who injected him full his brand-new special embalming fluid, one guaranteed not to interfere with later reanimation attempts. It simply kept the bodies fresh, just how West liked them.
But when West revivified the corpse, the assistant recoiled in horror as the victim screamed, “Help! Keep off, you cursed little tow-head fiend—keep that damned needle away from me!” It seems West had decided to help the traveler “pass along.” Some people might brand this as murder, but it was in the name of science and the creation of zombies. And really, travelers in or around Arkham should know better than to stop at a random house.
THE GREAT WAR—AN OPPORTUNITY FOR WEST
Clearly, the macabre Dr. West is beyond hope. He’s never going to get over his obsession with the dead. And the whole killing people thing, well, it even put off his friend—and close friends are important when it comes to the Mythos.
Terrified and disgusted with his mad mentor, West’s assistant nearly walked away from the undead business entirely. Almost. Then West went off to war. The assistant’s morbid curiosity got the best of him, and he followed West (see More Experiments in Providence in the Providence chapter to discover why you should always be there for your best friend—especially if he is a self-obsessed, insane scientist).
The gruesome front lines of war provided near-unlimited opportunities to procure dead bodies. And West cleared a bit of time in his busy schedule to train Major Sir Eric Moreland Clapham-Lee, D.S.O, in his reanimation techniques. But Clapham-Lee suffered a ghastly accident, nearly severing his head clean off.
Highly intelligent in his former life, freshly dead, and nearly decapitated, Clapham-Lee was West’s ideal subject. And that’s what friends are for: horrific experiments. Besides, if the experiment went sour, what threat was a disembodied head?
Always a man of detail, West placed the Major’s head in a vat and the body on the table, then West injected the corpse with his reanimation serum. The body twitched to life.
Then the head in the vat started screaming. Honestly, it seems that West just couldn’t get a break to save his life . . . or to reanimate someone else’s.
West and his assistant didn’t stick around to find out what happened next, as shells whistled from the sky, destroying the building as they fled. The two men escaped unharmed, and assumed Clapham-Lee had been reduced to bloody pieces. Really. That’s what they thought. Even though they’d been wrong every time before, they still convinced themselves that nothing bad would come of this.
UNDEAD REVENGE!
So not only is West beyond hope, but his twisted assistant is clearly beyond reason. After the war, the two returned to Bolton, living happily ever after, reanimating corpses here and there. Until the ungrateful and perturbed Clapham-Lee “unexpectedly” returned, insistent on spoiling the party.
To everyone’s surprise, the undead major managed to escape the shelled building (albeit without his head). Then he assembled his own reanimated army. His Undead Tactical Strike Force descended upon West’s farmhouse, disemboweling and decapitating the crazy doctor (the Major wasn’t going to make the same mistake West continually made; he left no room for error). Then, without notice, the strike force disappeared into the night, leaving behind West’s dead and mutilated body. This put West’s friend and assistant in a bit of a pickle. Everyone knew the assistant disliked West, and when authorities arrived, West was very much dead and the frumpy assistant was alive. So with Herbert West’s gru
esome end at the hand of his reanimated friend, and his assistant’s uncertain future in the eyes of the police, things worked out pretty well when it comes to the Cthulhu Mythos. The world didn’t come to an end, and there were no cults hunting anyone down. All in all, the “bad guys” got their just rewards, and only a few reanimated dead remained on the prowl.
IT’S TIME FOR THE GREAT RACE
I know what you’re thinking—up to this point, Arkham sounds like any other boring New England town. Just in case you’re not impressed with everything else you’ve heard, how about tales of time-traveling, mind-stealing, cone shaped aliens.
IT’S A MATTER OF POLITICAL ECONOMY
One of H.P. Lovecraft’s extraordinary tales was about an ancient alien race that occupied human minds. It is in the story, “The Shadow Out of Time,” where we find Nathaniel Wingate Peaslee, professor of political economics. In 1908, he collapsed during class. While this was common for the students in political economy, it caused concern when the professors did it mid-lecture.
Peaslee recovered, but his personality and demeanor changed entirely (again, never a good sign). Apparently, the change wasn’t for the better—his wife, and most of his children, ceased contact with him. Undeterred, Peaslee quit his comfy university job, traveling about, exploring and learning.
After some time, a startled Peaslee awoke, back to his old self, in the year 1913, with no memory of his exploits for the past five years. Or so he claimed.
WHAT TO DO WHEN FAMILY/FRIENDS
EXHIBIT CHANGES IN PERSONALITY OR DEMEANOR
It cannot be stressed enough that changes in personality/demeanor should never be ignored. They can be signs related to the Cthulhu Mythos, and are often related to (or mistaken for):
Possession
A curse
Possession due to a curse
Cult influence
Influence from a strange, magical artifact
Abundant alcohol consumption
The release of a new MMORPG
An indication that a murder plot is underway
Revivication (also known as “zombie-ism”)
Mid-life crises
If you believe your friend or family member is suffering from a change in personality or demeanor, get him to Arkham Sanitarium immediately. The sanitarium offers a team of specialists, trained specifically in personality/demeanor issues. They are standing by to treat your possessed, cursed, cult-influenced, artifact-addled friend or family member. Although they’ll just send him home if he’s drunk.
WHAT TO DO IF YOU THINK
YOU HAVE AMNESIA
Just wake up from yet another three-hour blackout? Not sure how you got to the corner of 54th Street and 3rd Avenue? Unless there’s a bottle of whiskey in your hand, it could be that be that your missing memories are Mythos related. Ask the following questions to help identify what type of Mythos-related amnesia you have:
How long did the blackout last? Is it more than a few years? If so, you’ve likely been inhabited by a member of the Great Race.
Do your friends and family hate you? This is another indication you were a victim of Yith inhabitation.
If the blackout was less than a few years, what was your condition when you snapped out of it? Were you wearing different clothes? In an unfamiliar location? If so, you may be the victim of a mind-swapping spell.
Think back to what you were doing prior to amnesia. If you found a strange artifact, it may have caused memory loss.
Were you reading a strange tome, such as the Necronomicon? If so, consider yourself lucky that you escaped with nothing but a case of amnesia.
Do you recall being hit on the head? If so, you’re likely suffering from plain old amnesia.
When you came to, was Herbert West standing over you with a syringe? If so, it’s likely you received a mild sedative. You’re lucky to be alive.
In fact, do you know Herbert West at all? If so, he’s probably attempted to drug you several times. Again, lucky to be alive.
Do you vaguely recall seeing a strange, tentacled creature, prior to your amnesia bout? If so, your amnesia is likely insanity-induced. Roll with it.
Did you find yourself standing in the center of a mass of people clad in black robes, brandishing sacrificial knives, and chanting? Relax, you don’t have amnesia. You’ve been drugged, and are about to become the victim of a sacrifice. Sit back, and enjoy the show. Things could be worse.
STRANGE DREAMS
Eventually, a gaggle of experts attributed Peaslee’s blackout to amnesia. Over time, Peaslee resumed his normal life (although without his wife, children, and job). But dreams and nightmares continued to plague him. He mostly dreamed of a vast, alien city. Researching amnesia cases similar to his own, Peaslee discovered a common memory amongst amnesia victims—remembrances of the Great Race of Yith.
This question might have suddently popped in your head: What is the Great Race? If not, then go over the previous checklist on demeanor/behavior changes. And for those who are wondering, the Great Race ventured to Earth from beyond the stars in ancient times. They possessed advanced technologies and abilities—and could switch consciousness with another creature, at will. Pretty snazzy when you think about it.
It turns out the Great Race, or as they are also called, Yith, enjoy taking over human minds. When hosting a “mind party” for a Yith, victims usually find themselves in the large, cone-shaped bodies of their alien kidnappers, inside the vast city of the Great Race. These mind-trapped victims are free to wander about, exploring the ancient city and its immense libraries. But as they don’t have the ability to comprehend anything, it turns out to be a great waste of time. Still, humans who have been taken over by a Yith often share these common visions of a great, alien city, just like the dream Peaslee had.
Believing there was more to all of this than a simple case of amnesia, Peaslee published accounts of his dreams in a psychological journal to help other amnesiacs. Surely, these common hallucinations, experienced by so many amnesia victims stemmed from some sort of weird medical phenomenon. It seemed perfectly reasonable to Peaslee—until a mining engineer in Western Australia recognized some of the ancient ruins and markings described in Peaslee’s article.
ANCIENT EXCAVATIONS
With such spectacular news, and no friends to keep him home, Peaslee quickly arranged an expedition, to Western Australia. There he discovered the decayed city of his dreams. He concluded, the mass “hallucinations” of so many amnesiacs stemmed from physical memories. And the more he saw of the location, the more he remembered.
Memories of the great city flooded into Peaslee’s consciousness as he ventured into the ancient ruins. Unfortunately, his recollection returned as slowly as his common sense. One night, during a bout of insomnia, he decided to trek through the ancient ruins, by himself, in the dark—with no remembrance of the giant flying polyps that also dwelled underneath the city. These polyps had been driven underground when the Yith arrived on Earth, and fought repeatedly with the Yith. Eventually the polyps won the fight, though they opted to return to their subterranean homes. The entrances to the polyps’ caverns below were now long abandoned and unguarded. As Peaslee tramped about, kicking up rocks and dust, he heard a shrill, inhuman whistle sounding from the depths. Smartly, he ran, and escaped the city before becoming a flying polyp’s midnight snack.
Peaslee devoted his future efforts to ending excavations in the ancient city of the Great Race of Yith. Here he had little success. Yet, things could have been worse. Other than the occasional piercing scream in the middle of the night, or the odd missing scientist, nothing world-ending came of the ancient city expeditions. Again, in the grand scheme of the Cthulhu Mythos, this is getting off easy.
THE GREAT RACE OF THE YITH
The Great Race, or Yith (if you find that eaiser to say) hail from a distant planet known as Yith—not very creative for supra-geniuses. Since the Great Race of Yith have mastered time travel, they can be wherever they want, whenever they want (which is
strange, since they are always notoriously late for parties).
But the Great Race’s neatest trick is popping into another creature’s head. Plus, they can go forward or backward in time when they do so. Entire race dying out? Not a problem for the Great Race. They simply project their consciousness backward in time and inhabit new bodies. Oh, and don’t let the whole “Great Race” thing confuse you. What the Yith really meant to say was “Great Species.” The term “race” is typically an artificial sub-classification within a species. To make things clear here, just think of them as aliens—which they are, even if they’re a bit off with their terminology.
Anyway, the Yith traveled through space and time by hurtling their minds at Earth. They ended up in Earth’s ancient history, inhabiting ten-foot tall, cone-shaped creatures native to the planet at the time. And life wasn’t easy, because there was a whole race (species) of flying polyps out to kill them here on Earth. Yes, deadly flying polyps. But when you’re the masters of time (not quite Time Lords, that’s another work of fiction) then getting away from vicious polyps isn’t typically a problem.
In the meantime, the Yith like to skip around time, jumping in and out of human minds. Typically, the victim of the mind swap ends up in the Yith’s body (compared to the Great Race, Asenath Waite’s brain-trading abilities described in Wife Swap are a parlor trick).
These enormous creatures delight in amassing knowledge. So while renting space in someone else’s brain, they devote themselves to learning all about the current culture and history. With this knowledge they expand their amazing, ever-growing library. And in case you’re wondering, it is a printed text library. They’re not fond of eBooks.
