by Rachel Gray
When a Yith is done with its human host, it zips back to its original body, wiping clean the mind of the victim. When all is said and done, it feels like nothing ever happened—on the human side.
Well . . . almost nothing, if you don’t count the five years you can’t remember, your family left because you went crazy, and your friends all hate you. What seems like a flaw to a human mind is simply a trivialty to a Yith. They don’t buy into the “need a close friend” rule. As a human, you should. Close friends come in handy during a pinch. So make sure you have quite a few—just in case a Yith decides to send a few running.
MISKATONIC EXPEDITIONS
In addition to its library archive, Miskatonic’s notoriety stems from its famous expeditions. Miskatonic often funded extended trips to collect specimens, acquire ancient artifacts, and test advanced gadgets in the field.
Most expeditions went down the same way—a group of scientists and professors headed to a remote location to investigate something seemingly mundane such as rock samples. They stumbled across a great and horrible discovery beyond human comprehension. One or more scientists and/or professors either went insane, were horrifically murdered, or both. Miskatonic’s most notorious mess-up, “The Pabodie Expedition,” spanned the entirety of these problems.
THE PABODIE EXPEDITION
Not one to keep in a solitary setting, H.P. Lovecraft penned a novella about the Antarctic titled “At the Mountains of Madness.” While it did involve an expedition from Miskatonic University, the locus of the tale takes place at the bottom of the world. The novella has the flavor of a few later films, the most recognized being John Carptenter’s version of The Thing. Even though the film was based on John Campbell’s famous tale “Who Goes There?,” Carpenter’s revisitation brings some of Lovecraft’s imaginings into the mix.
WHAT TO DO IF YOU’RE BEING
INHABITED BY AN YITH
So, you’ve noticed large, missing blocks of time, and mysterious memories of an ancient city. You have a strange feeling, like an itch in the back of your head, as if someone else took up residence there, the night before.
If you think a member of the Great Race inhabits you intermittently, try the following:
Handcuff or tie yourself to immobile furniture.
Lock yourself in the attic, or a closet, and throw away the key.
Act crazy and get yourself thrown into a sanitarium.
Go live in a remote, isolated location so the Yith has nothing to do, and no reason to return to your body.
Take muscle relaxants or other medications that will make your rubbery body useless to the Yith.
Dress up as a clown—that will make it tough for the Yith to explain.
Cause a ruckus while you’re in the Yith city, and get yourself branded a troublemaker.
Enlist in the military.
Eat a high-fat, high-cholesterol diet, and don’t exercise. This will make it harder for the Yith to get around. Even if you don’t prevent inhabitation, at least you’ll enjoy yourself.
Leave notes around your apartment for the Yith, politely asking it to leave (or, at the least, clean up after itself)
It was 1930 when Professor Frank H. Pabodie led an investigation to Antarctica, presumably to collect some rocks and try out his new-fangled lightweight drill.
Pabodie’s team arrived at the campsite and set about their rock-collecting, new-fangled drilling activity. Nearby, an enormous mountain range loomed—larger than anything the expeditionary force had set eyes upon, even the Himalayas. And everyone knows ridiculously large mountain ranges simply beg for expedition members to crawl over and find out what’s on the other side (here’s a hint: more ice, water, and rocks).
Caving to temptation, a small expeditionary party headed out and explored the enormous mountain range. Of course they couldn’t report back to the main camp and admit they found more ice, water, and rocks. Instead, they excitedly informed the remainder of the group about an enormous, ancient city, nestled upon the other side of the mountains.
MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:
YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW!
The common misconception, when it comes to Mythos knowledge, is the more you know, the better. Of course, you must absorb every fact in this book. But in general, curiosity should not to be satisfied when it comes to the Cthulhu Mythos.
Don’t peer inside the antique, leather-bound tome. Resist temptation, and refrain from staring into the strange, glowing globe on the pedestal. Most importantly, don’t venture out to discover the terrors awaiting you beyond the giant, Antarctic mountain range.
If you ever have a nagging doubt about picking up a strange, shiny object, or embarking upon an expedition, trust your instincts. Stay behind and grill up the hot dogs for the rest of the expeditionary team. The ones who return, that is.
The rest of the group remained dubious about the ancient city. But accounts of the large, fossilized remains of ancient creatures, dragged back to the mountain explorers’ temporary camp, were harder to dismiss. Even more exciting (and unfortunate) for the explorers, the remains resembled creatures described in the Necronomicon—large, barrel-shaped beings known as the Elder Things.
DISAPPEARANCES AND DEAD PEOPLE
It wasn’t long before the main group lost contact with the expeditionary party. Again, if you’ve seen the movie The Thing, where strange, tentacled creatures just dripping with Cthulhu Mythos goodness are discovered in the ice and innocuously left to thaw, you can probably guess how this ends.
Heading over to investigate, the main team, including geologist William Dyer, found the expeditionary group—most of the pieces, anyway. The team—both men and dogs—were slaughtered. One team member, Gedney, as well as one of the dogs, was missing. So were several Elder Thing fossils—the ones that were not partially dissected.
Dyer and a graduate student, Danforth hopped in a plane and headed over those enormous, mystifying mountains. And discovered the expeditionary team’s fictional ancient city was real.
MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:
STAY FROSTY
Don’t thaw Mythos creatures. If it’s cold, keep it cold. Don’t warm up strange, alien corpses to room temperature. Don’t try to cut into them. Terrible things occur when you thaw supposedly dead beasts from another planet.
INSIDE THE ANCIENT RUINS
Inside the city, giant sculptures conveniently illustrated the entire story of the Elder Things. Many millions of years ago, the creatures inhabited the city. They created biological creatures to do their bidding called shoggoths.
The shoggoths didn’t take well to the “do your bidding” way of life. So they staged a revolt. It didn’t go well. The Elder Things subdued them again . . . or so the Elder Things thought.
Dyer and Danforth advanced deeper into the city. They discovered one of the campsite sleds, as well as the headless remains of the Elder Things from camp. And now it all made sense. Well, except for the headless part.
The aliens awakened in the humans’ camp, only to find they were being dissected. Naturally, this got on their nerves, so they killed everyone. Then the freshly-awakened creatures headed home to decompress, and get a little R&R.
But before they could sit down, relax, and kick up their Elder Thing feet (or whatever those things were), something attacked the aliens, severing their heads. Just what attacked the Elder Things, Dyer and Danforth couldn’t tell. But the shoggoth sloshing around the corner, heading straight toward them, seemed like a good bet.
The two men tore out of the city (of the choices available to you when encountering a shoggoth, running is always best. Although poking it with a stick would have been more entertaining). And although they escaped without physical harm, Danforth mistakenly looked back as they fled. And something he spotted, something worse than his slaughtered friends in camp, the Elder Thing aliens, or the burbling shoggoth, drove poor Dyer to the point of complete insanity.
As for Danforth, well, he devoted his energies to thwarting future Antarctic expeditions, tr
ying to convince folks that they really should try someplace warmer and quieter instead. Maybe Florida . . . or Tahiti?
WHAT TO DO IF YOU’RE
INVITED ON AN EXPEDITION
There’s an easy answer: don’t go. But, since you are likely to go anyway, lured by exciting tales of treasure or tomes, ask the following questions:
What is the expedition looking for? If anything involves the word curse or doom maybe you should sit this one out.
Is the expedition funded by Miskatonic University? If so, then pass on it.
Will any Miskatonic University professors be joining you? (Not a good sign.)
Will you be going to a remote place, such as Antarctica, with little means of communication or rescue? (Think about it. Regardless of who sponsored the expedition and who’s going, does it sound like a good idea?)
Are there any ancient cities, or tombs involved?
What is the SBP (Slaughter Breakover Point)? In other words, what is the living-to-dead ratio for the expedition, at which point team leaders will consider the mission a failure, and will return home?
If an ancient alien corpse is discovered frozen in the ice, will the expedition be thawing it? If so, why? (Feel free to provide them with a copy of the film The Thing at this point.)
Will the expedition be exploring newly discovered caverns or ancient cities? (Unless they are known to have been occupied by humans, nothing good will come of the expedition.)
Has anyone in the expedition team ever suffered amnesia?
Did the idea of the expedition come from a passage in the Necronomicon?
WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU
ENCOUNTER A SHOGGOTH
Shoggoths are great, gurgling masses that appear throughout Lovecraft’s fiction. Initially created by the Elder Things as servants, they pop up in different times and places, causing trouble. The creatures are large, amorphous masses—like a bubbly, oily black trash heap with eyes. It is well documented that they are not very communicative, nor friendly. Here are several tips, should you encounter one:
Try talking to the massive, amorphous blob. This won’t do any good, but it will give you a sense of accomplishment before you die.
Run.
If you have a friend with you, trip him, then run.
This one’s a bit tricky—shoggoths have eyes anywhere they want. But you could try saying, “Hey, what’s that over there?” This may or may not distract them. Most likely not. But there’s that whole sense of accomplishment thing.
Try speaking to them in the language of the Elder Things. This will promptly get you killed, as shoggoths loathe their enslavers, and will obviously mistake you for one of them. But you won’t have all that anxiety of wondering if you can outrun them. And, that’s an accomplishment in itself.
Poke it with a stick. This is absolutely pointless, and extremely dangerous. Before doing so, make sure you have a friend there to witness it. At least he’ll be able to recount the tale of your spectacular stupidity and futile efforts.
Ask your friend to poke it with a stick. This will distract the shoggoth long enough for you to flee, and will give you a tale of spectacular stupidity about how your friend actually followed your instructions. It’s important to always have friends you can rely upon.
Don’t move. Ever.
Sing it a song—shoggoths are not known for their fondness of music. But you never know. It might lull the creature to sleep.
Try stomping on it. Just a single, slimy corner. It may distract it. More likely it will anger the creature, and it will kill you instantly. But you never really had any true chance to escape. So just go with the moment.
Dunwich
One dreads to trust the tenebrous tunnel of the bridge, yet there is no way to avoid it. Once across, it is hard to prevent the impression of a faint, malign odour about the village street, as of the massed mould and decay of centuries. It is always a relief to get clear of the place, and to follow the narrow road around the base of the hills and across the level country beyond till it rejoins the Aylesbury pike. Afterwards one sometimes learns that one has been through Dunwich
—H.P. Lovecraft, “The Dunwich Horror”
In comparison to Arkham, the rustic town of Dunwich is underdeveloped and downtrodden, fraught with hard times and economic woes. The lonely landscape is overrun with wildlife, and the human population is sparse. Buildings are run down, few, and far between.
The small score of inhabitants are unintelligent, superstitious folk, and the population dwindled further after the The Dunwich Horror arrived for a visit.
THE DUNWICH HORROR
In “The Dunwich Horror,” H.P. Lovecraft describes the exact type of small town no one ever wants to visit. Dunwich, which is a neighbor of Arkham, makes the backwaters in the film Deliverance look like a thriving, intellectual college town. While occasionally the random traveler finds his way to Dunwich, everyone else tries to avoid it. The town is known for its insane wizards, and strange breeding of Cthulhu Mythos deities and humans. And most of this Dunwich’s fame is centered around a person named Wilbur Whateley.
ABOUT WILBUR
It all began with a very ugly child, Wilbur Whateley, who was born to the albino Lavinia Whateley in 1913. The family resided in the house of Lavinia’s father, Old Whateley—a man clearly off his rocker. Wilbur was described as a chinless and goat-faced child who aged at a disturbingly fast rate—by the age of three, he resembled a ten-year old (albeit a goat-faced ten-year-old). At four and a half, with his smattering of facial hair and cracking voice, he easily looked like a teenager. In addition to his freaky fast aging, there was something wrong about Wilbur. The townsfolk weren’t fond of him. Nor were the dogs around town.
In fact, the dogs pestered him so much that he carried a gun for protection. He ended up shooting a dog or two (fear not, dog lovers . . . the canines get the last laugh . . . or bark in this tale).
THE WHATELEYS GET WEIRDER
Old Whateley swelled with pride for his peculiar grandson. Running about town, the old man rambled on about how wonderful Wilbur’s father was. Sometimes he let slip a few words here or there about something called Yog-Sothoth. The Whateleys were known to be odd, so Old Whateley’s idiosyncrasies weren’t much of a surprise.
For some reason, one day the Whateleys decided to remodel their house. They added doors on the second floor. Ramps leading to the new doors (clearly not adhereing to local codes). And, when the old man started buying scores of extra cattle (though the size of his herd never grew), people in town really started to talk.
Old Whateley died when Wilbur reached his teenage years (his actual teenage years, not age four-and-a-half). As the old man expelled his final breath, Old Whateley mumbled to Wilbur about opening the gates to Yog-Sothoth, and procuring a copy of the Necronomicon for some strange ceremony.
Lavinia disappeared a couple years after Old Whateley’s death. Suddenly, Wilbur was on his own.
MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:
SAY WHAT?
Throughout Mythos tales, you will hear of weird folks muttering strange words you’ve never heard before: Yog-Sothoth. Azathoth. Cthulhu.
Here’s a guideline to follow: if you can’t figure out how to spell it, it’s not good for you (which is why I never learned how to spell grean beens). And, anyone chanting a litany of barely-pronouncable, un-spellable names is not to be trusted.
If you’ve just heard someone spew out a bunch of spooky-sounding names, and you’re not sure whether to run, consult the Cthulhu Quick Reference chapter in this book. If you find any of the names in the quick reference, run away, as fast as you can. If you don’t find them in this book, run anyway.
CALL THE LOCKSMITH
Sometimes referred to as “the key and the guardian of the gate,” Yog-Sothoth is an Other God (also commonly referred to as Outer God, although this was not Lovecraft’s term). The Other Gods are monstrous and unfathomable Cthulhu Mythos deities. Most of the Other Gods wish to ignore humanity entirely, but when backwoods families
and crazy cults set about summoning them, sometimes it’s not an option.
Yog-Sothoth, in its vastness, transcends time, and is believed to be the guardian between this universe, and that of the Other Gods. This prevents pesky deities from descending into our world and causing further chaos, and it keeps us out of their homes—mostly. So, technically Yog-Sothoth has kept humanity safe from the rest of the Other Gods . . . so far. Thanks a bunch, Yog-Sothoth.
DOG SNACK
Like most irrational people, Wilbur devoted his efforts to procuring a copy of the Necronomicon. He attempted to convince Dr. Henry Armitage, head librarian at Miskatonic, to loan out the university copy. Just for a little while, of course. When this idea didn’t go over with Armitage, who knows how dangerous the tome was, Wilbur tried another approach: whining. Well, to be fair, Wilbur added in some cajoling and bribing the staff of various libraries and universities housing the Necronomicon (yes, there are a few others). Finally, like all people who really are in need of a book, Wilbur resorted to breaking into the Miskatonic University rare archives collection. But, apparently he hadn’t received the memo about the guard dog.
The shredded remains of Wilbur Whateley were found upon the library floor, the morning after Wilbur’s break-in attempt (this is what he gets for disliking dogs—word clearly got around). But the gruesome discovery wasn’t the terrifying part—it was the body of Whateley itself. Instead of blood, he leaked a disgusting, stinky greenish-yellow ichor across the rug. Fur peeked from underneath his clothes, along with disgusting tentacles with sucking mouths.
