Through the
space between realities it lurks/crawls/drifts/languishes/stretches/soars, a
great beast of cosmic proportions made up of the liminal spaces. It is an
entity made of the civilised races dreams of rest, perhaps- or perhaps it is
the thing which seeps into the dreams of tavern landlords, suggesting they
should stick a bed in an upstairs room and let it out by the night to weary
travellers...
The Great Rester is a Build-by-Roll adventure designed for use with Troika!, which is currently partway through a Kickstarter campaign which I am super stoked for. The first link is to the free-to-use rules, and it's super easy to pick up and play.
To build the Great Rester for your
playgroup, I have devised a couple of tables below. First, you want to roll on
the Area Table, which determines what kind of hotel this particular section of
the Rester is. Then, you roll on the room/encounter table, coming back to
change Area every 2d6 rooms or whenever told to on a rooms entry (or even when
you just feel like you need a different atmosphere). The area just determines
the general vibe of the particular section you're in and may sometimes be
overruled by a description- since it will change from time to time, don't worry
if something seems out of place. It is all one big hotel, after all!
Your players may stumble into the
Rester through the service doors of another, more mundane hotel. They may wake
up there after a particularly brutal night on the town. Perhaps they have been
sent into the Rester by a patron, to fetch or deliver a message to one of the
cosmic hotel-beast's distinguished guests. Either way, they should have their
wits about them lest they themselves become the room service! The outside
areas, if any enterprising player really wants to explore them, seem to be
featureless repetitions of what was visible to them from the hotel. I imagine
they occasionally dump travellers onto random spheres of existence, with little
way back.
The monster table is there to be
played with. Since so many of the rooms have weirdnesses or encounters in them
you needn't roll a monster for every room. That said, if the players have hit a
lull you can always press the ol' random encounter button.
Areas
1.Ye Olde-Time Tavern & Inn-
you know, straw floors and flimsy wattle and daub walls. The toilets are
buckets and the rooms are like lavatories. The windows all look out onto
featureless muddy scrubland. This probably the flimsiest and most flammable
section of the Great Rester, and lit exclusively by guttering, oily torches in
braziers. Guests are irritable and possibly ill, here. Staff are always in a
hurry to leave.
2. Classically Luxurious- real
luxury is timeless, and so is this area. Shiny, polished marble carved into
grand pillars and statues. The light sources are artfully placed glowing orbs,
all moulded into the marble for a tasteful and dramatic effect. Rooms are grand
and comfortable, if a little dispassionate-feeling when one is alone, and the
windows look out from a height onto pristine gardens. The guests here can be
aloof and obnoxious, and the staff are bewilderingly deferrant- unless they
suspect you belong in the more "economically amenable" quarters.
3. Modern Motel- the walls are
thin, much like the carpet and the sheets. The bedrooms are cramped and smell
stale, and there is always a 1 in 6 chance that when you enter a standard
bedroom there is a recently deceased guest, a 1 in 6 chance there’s a cache of
illegal drugs stashed in a suitcase, and a 1 in 6 chance some other entrepreneurial
soul has come by before you and stolen literally everything that wasn't nailed
down. Bedrooms have a television, two lamps and a rickety writing desk in them,
but the television can pick up only static and weird reruns of little-loved and
rarely remembered sitcoms. Using electrical outlets or equipment has a 1 in 6
chance of electrocuting the user, and in all rooms the lights flicker and or
buzz as appropriate. The windows all look out onto litter-strewn concrete
expanses. Guests here are seedy and trashy, staff are exhausted and irritable.
4. Faded Glory of the Golden Age-
jazzy suites with luxury fittings, all faded into a delightful shade of
familiarity. The bedrooms range from fairly modest digs to real upmarket rooms,
on a scale of 1 up to 6, with any windows looking out from a height over empty
streets and an array of other buildings like this one. The lights in this area
are ostentatious blown-glass affairs, similar in working to the magical spheres
of the Classical Luxury area albeit dustier and less securely fitted- these
spheres could be pried loose. The guests here are all quite dramatic, be that
melancholic flapper-girls or brooding gangster-types. The staff are all polite
and charming, and occasionally sassy. Most of them wear bellboy uniforms.
5. Sleek Modern Living- this area
is all chrome and glass. The lights are belt fluorescent in a wide array of
neon-bright colours, and the floors are soft, discreetly springy linoleum. The
rooms are minimalist in design, with any useful room features tucked away in
flat panels that require a search check to find and activate. Each room has a
rather rigid bed and a wall-to-wall desk that a flat-screen T.V. you have no
hope of ever working out how to use is hidden in. The guests seem vacant but
are in reality keenly-aware edge-lords. The staff are all cool, collected and
almost robotic. Some of them are actual robots.
6. Fairytale Castle - this area is
similar perhaps to Ye Olde Time Tavern & Inn, but where that area was
flea-ridden and gross this one is fancy and delightful. The lights are all
magical torches which flare into life as you approach, and the floors are
smooth granite covered in plush throws. There is, quite out of place, plumbing
in the bathrooms. The guests here are jolly and gregarious, or courtly and
possibly scheming. The staff are earnest and noble, helpful to a fault.
Corridors
Roll
1d3 and 1d6 to generate…
11… A corridor with 12 rooms on it, six on each
side. The left hand doors are all pocked and unloved, and the right hand doors
are pristine. This corridor ends in a right turn.
12… A corridor
with the lights all broken. The last two doors on this stretch are open
(generate them now), but all the others are sealed shut. As the players
pass these sealed doors there are a number of disturbing sounds. Hissing,
murmuring and scratching at first, but by the final doors indistinct
pleading is almost audible. If the players force one of these doors open, they
find behind them is only a large, crude dumbwaiter shaft. Once the shaft is
open an ungodly skittering is heard from above and below- interstellar spider
parasites come skittering down in waves after the players.
13... A corridor of 6 rooms undergoing their
cleaning. The staff cleaning them have all been mutated by the dangerous
substances they are exposed to daily, and now more resemble some sort of fleshy
ogre-thing. Stats as trolls- they don't like to be disturbed as they work, and
will attack players on sight.
14… A corridor
that seems to stretch on forever, with crossroads after every four doors
intersecting with another corridor. After every crossroads roll 1d6-
On a 1, a member
of staff exits the nearest room and suspiciously questions the players about
the whereabouts of a guest in that room.
On a 2, a family
of nobles from somewhere in Irifice exit a room and offer the players money to
escort them to the nearest lobby.
On a 3, a door
lies open to show a bizarre scene involving leather-clad old men and women and
man-sized animated stuffed toys.
On a 4, one of
the Knight Hoteliers, sworn protectors of travellers, stumbles out of a room
and demands to know if the players are here to kill the Great Rester. If they
can't convince him they are not, he will fight them.
On a 5 or 6,
reroll the area d6.
15... A corridor
with six rooms and a flight of stairs, lurking just beyond a set of double
doors. These stairs lead up and down to corridors of a different area (reroll
the area for new corridors). For each flight of stairs after the first, roll
1d6. On a 6, the players have stumbled out onto the roof of the Great Rester.
They must test their luck to avoid being overcome by the celestial scale of the
hotels exterior, and must also beware of the Space Rocs, giant bird-like
apparitions that will try to sweep the players away to their nests.
16... A corridor
with 10 doors on each side of it and a curiously abrupt dead end, with the wall
half covering a door. If the players really put their backs into it, they can
heave the wall back, pushing it into what is a different area. For each five
feet they move the wall, roll a d6. On an odd number a member of staff happens
across the scene and demands the players stop messing around with the
architecture. The inhabitants of the half blocked room are three very grateful
Imperial Elves.
21... A corridor
with only one door, leading down a service stairway into a kitchen. The chef
manning this kitchen is a monstrous octopus, basking in a cauldron at the rooms
centre while his lengthy arms fiddle with food in other pots and pans. Roll d6-
on a 1 or 2 he assumes the players are his newest shipment of white meat for
the sausages.
22... A corridor
with twelve rooms and a grand archway built halfway down it- reroll the area
for the corridors second half. There are guests typical of the new area
standing under the arch and assessing the area that the players are wandering
over from.
23... A corridor
with 8 rooms, all of which are double their size. Not as in larger- as in built
for huge people. In each room roll 1d6- on a 1 the giant guest staying there
arrives and is furious at the invasion of their privacy. The players have a
chance of finding a golden egg and or goose somewhere in a room with a giant.
24… A corridor that
is a courtyard, with other corridors all overlooking it accessible from a set
of stairs. There are six rooms on each side of the courtyard, three on the
ground floor and one set up. Each corridor above has a corridor branching off
from the centre. The branching corridors roll as normal, but lead back to the
courtyard on the opposite side that the players entered, just as the player
left- so much so that they can see themselves from behind as they walk in.
25... A corridor
with various unsavoury types lurking outside open rooms. Ladies of the night,
thugs and ruffians- this corridor is a kind of black market for the area, where
all kinds of unsavoury things and services can be procured for someone with the
cash and street cred.
26… A corridor in which all the
doors are open and unruly children run with messy faces from room to room.
31-36… A corridor with 2d6 doors on
it.
Rooms &
Encounters
Roll 1d2 and 2d6…
111... A lobby, with 1d3 staff smiling and eager to help. The
corridors and doors from the lobby do not behave as space ought to- there are
2d6 on first count, but each time a character interacts with them there are 1d6
more or less: even numbers are more, odd are less. This makes it nigh
impossible to navigate back here after leaving, and also makes it hard to
follow or be followed from this room. If you want to be cruel the players could
get separated here, in which case roll up the next 10 rooms and place players
1d3 rooms apart on that progression.
112... A lobby
with a total absence of staff. Any staff that were with the party mysteriously
abscond. There is a solitary crone of a woman lurking by the counter, drumming
talon-like fingernails impatiently. She will bark commands at the players, and
if they entertain her requests they must test their luck or slowly transform
into staff members, growing their uniforms like a second layer of skin beneath
their clothes. There are stairs up from and two doors away from this lobby.
113... A lobby
with a long queue of weird patrons, and one harassed member of staff. There's a
gallery above, and a very messy bar area. If any bags are left unattended a
never-seen assistant quickly disappears it.
114... A lobby
that has a small family camped in the corner, their children venturing out in
parties to collect change so they can once again afford the luxury of a room.
For the next three rooms, roll 1d6. On an even number there is a sneaky child
thief in that room that will pilfer anything shiny they can get hold of.
115... A lobby
with a moderate queue at both the counter and the Bureau de Change, which is
staffed by a monolithic thinking machine. The party can change money and
treasure into any conceivable currency here. The thinking machine will also
barter in abstract concepts, exchanging feelings for other feelings and
memories for memories. New memories aren't just illusions- they happened.
Figure that one out. By this method players can swap skills, but at a cost of 3
old skill ranks for 1 new.
116... A lobby
that is eerily quiet. There are stairs down and up, both leading to identical
lobbies- or, in reality, the same lobby. Every four iterations of the lobby
that a player passes through, roll 1d6. On a six, the player has something
about themselves change, subtly. Perhaps their socks change colour. Perhaps
their family took them to Tenerife on holiday instead of Majorca. The rooms
accessible from the lobby change with each iteration, requiring a reroll.
121… A room with the furniture smashed up and in disarray. There are some
drumsticks hidden in there, and if the players search the cupboards thoroughly
they will find a solitary, deranged man- the roadie of a rock-and-roll band who
have recently vacated.
122… A room with
a nervous looking man who will, regardless of what the players look like,
assume they are from the escort service he called only moments earlier.
123… A room with
a secret door behind the bedhead, which leads into another room with a secret
door behind the bedhead, which leads into… ad infinitum. Curiously, leaving the
door of any room will land the characters back on the corridor they started on.
124… A room with way too many doors- roll 1d6 for each of the four walls, and
that’s how many mismatched doors there are, each leading out onto a new
corridor. The furniture is all piled into the middle of the room, and proper
investigation may reveal 1d6 goblins hiding in there as if pretending it’s a
fort.
125… A room with
a weird smell. The smell is actually a sentient being from a very weird sphere,
and will try to communicate with the players in fart-like guffs. There’s also a
loose collection of coins from several different cities, which the Smell is
trying to work out how to pick up and transport to the nearest bar for a drink.
126… A room with a door leading into an adjoining room. The first room is
tidy-ish, with two adult Stonefolk sat exhausted in two armchairs. In the room
next door their three children are hyperactive after being let allowed a snack
of copper after their dinner of boulders. The stonefolk will give the players a
number of very precious gemstones in return for them getting the little brats
to bed.
131… A lobby
with a bellboy resting at the counter and a wall full of postal-shelves behind
him. There’s a massive bank of letters and parcels here, so many that no soul
could possibly sort them into the correct rooms’ shelf. The bellboy has been
saving parcels that look interesting, intending to take them home at the end of
his shift.
132… A room that
serves as one of the Rester’s many multi-faith chapels. This one is currently
being used as a ritual ground for the Seventy-Eight-Day-Feast of the
Fumbling-Leg-Lord, a weird and undeniably dark rite that involves bringing a “voluntary”
sacrifice up to the room each day for all seventy-eight days and saving all the
legs up for the final ritual which will animate them into a freaky, scrambling
Leg-Monster. Roll 2d6- on a double six the cultists have just animated a leg
monster, otherwise the die roll total is how many limbs they still need. The
cultists will cajole, enchant and otherwise threaten the players into donating as
many limbs as they can.
133… A room with all furniture
covered in white decorators’ blankets except for a huge and glorious golden
chest, studded with gems. The chest is actually a casket, containing one of the
Rester’s most prestigious guests: Alcz’Eth Mu, an ancient mummified god-king of
the Old Worlds. If woken, roll 1d6. On an odd number, Alcz’Eth Mu will expect
the players’ worship and intend on reclaiming his long-lost throne- the higher
the number the more unpleasant he will be. On an even number he will be
grateful to the players for waking him and be generally quite chill, the higher
the number the friendlier he will be.
134… A lobby with a grand front
door, leading out of the Rester… into the Void, the Unreal, the Formless.
Players with sufficient knowledge of such things can test their luck from the
front door to summon almost anything from that formlessness, but anyone even
seeing it must also test their luck to avoid it sending them insane.
135… A room with a great balcony,
and two rich lords lounging out there smoking cigars. One of them is happy and
gregarious, the other nasty and sly.
136... A lobby
that is something of a nexus between long corridors. Instead of the usual staff
the lobby is manned by a resplendent delegation of 1d6 of the noble Knights
Hotelier. These knights are part of the chapter sworn to defend the Great Rester,
and will fight any threats to it to the death.
141... A lobby
that is something of a nexus between long corridors. Instead of the usual staff
the lobby has been commandeered by a ragtag delegation of the Knights Hotelier.
These knights are part of the splinter group who have, rather heretically,
decided that the Great Rester is a predator on the weary travellers of the
cosmos. As such they want to see it rendered inert, dead, gone.
142... A great
swimming pool, above which is a glass ceiling. The pool has been left
unattended for too long and is now cold and coated in a layer of algae. In its
depths lurk 2d6 Thralligators, weird fungal-reptile hybrids. They have Skill 7
and Stamina 10, Init 1 and Armour 2. Elsewhere in the pool room players might
discover a stash of towels and an unusual assortment of inflatable monsters.
143... A great,
dry swimming pool. As above, except rather absent of Thralligators and water.
There is, amongst the dried dirt in the pools base, a ruby-set ring.
144... A great
swimming pool, above which is a glass ceiling. There are three families of
guests frolicking, as well as several young men and women reclining on
loungers. There's one particular couple of lounging-folk who are almost looking
for trouble- two holidaying lizardfolk, the husband quite certain that all
around him are trying to get a glimpse of his wife's nether-scales.
145... A flight
of stairs, ornate and carved, leading up and away. The top is a dead end, with
a beautifully decorative stained glass window depicting a great dragon made of
suitcases and bags.
146... A long
corridor with only one room leading from it. Inside is a batty old woman who is
furious at being disturbed and insistent her check out is not until four.
She'll attack players who don't immediately apologise and back out. She's got
Skill 6, Stamina 8, and Initiative 2. Also she's a Gorgon, of Medusa fame.
Unless players make a notice check to clock the wriggling of her shawl and take
appropriate gaze-evasive measures, it’s a Luck check to ensure they're not
petrified.
151... A
corridor with no rooms, only portraits of the employee of the month. There are
some very disturbed pictures at the oldest end of the hallway, of entities
which are unthinkable and unknowable. These oldest pictures require a test
of Luck to more-than- glance at, but also may contain some clues as to the fate
of several divine and damned beings of the most ancient mythologies.
152... A small
sitting room with just one door on the far side. A lady who calls herself the
proprietor is sat knitting, but will bustle to fetch players a cup of tea, or
extra blankets for their bed. She seems convinced this is her small
coastal-town bed and breakfast, and will not be dissuaded from that view even
in light of her sitting room having bricked up windows and a hotel just
outside. Barmy guest, or smaller hotel absorbed into the Rester? You decide!
153... A doorway
leading to grimy stairs down- there are smoky stains all over. At the foot of
the stairs is a dimly lit room full of raging furnaces. In one corner skulks a
hunched man, while a procession of little creatures stalk across the floor to
drag fuel to the furnaces. The man is not overly friendly but if pressed will
give directions to wherever the players need to go, all for the sake of some
peace and quiet. If attacked he has Skill 14, Stamina 20 Init 4. He won't
pursue past the stairs. There are corridors leading away into a vast field of
furnaces, the hot and sweaty guts of the Rester, but little way to navigate out
there- all roads eventually lead back to the sooty room and stairs.
154... A dining
room with a continental buffet table, only with plastic food instead of the
real thing. There are huge open windows that fill one whole wall, with a ground
floor 'garden' tailored to the area outside. Every few in-game minutes that the
players spend rooting around the room or the garden, roll 1d6. On an odd
number, the players begin to hear a buzzing and droning outside, coming from
the weirdly dense bushes that seem to go on and on beyond the trimmed garden
area. The drone is the sound of the real diners in this room: several giant
flies! Huge bluebottles the size of horses swarm the window, 2d6 of them in
total. They each have Skill 7, Stamina 10 and Init 2, and are mindlessly
hungry, disgorging thick acidic slime that players must test their luck or
receive 1d3 Skill damage from contact.
155... A set of four lifts, all a dull grey metal with sliding doors. Three of
the four don't work, but one will slowly and noisily descend. Inside is an
obviously undead man in a bellboy outfit, managing a bizarre,
Frankenstein-style board of controls. The lift, when entered, will be taken 2d6
floors away- up on an odd, down on an even. For each floor, the player nearest
the zombie must test their luck or have their lift operator suddenly lose his
self-control, lunging at the player. Assume each floor of travel is a round of
combat- if the bellboy is defeated before they reach their destination, the
journey goes awry and the characters are deposited in the Penthouse or Service
Tunnels (roll 1d6, even Penthouse, odd Service Tunnels.)
156... A dining room with all the tables piled high with food. The players can
restore Stamina with this food as normal, but each time they take a mouthful
they must test their luck or be transformed into pigs. The pig-players will obediently
follow their comrades around until the magic wears off in 1d6 rooms.
161... A storage
room, made up of many narrow corridors between shelves piled high with pillows,
bedding, cleaning products and furnishings. The shelves are floor to ceiling and
precarious. The various items stored here are area-dependent, so bales of
floor-hay in the olde-time area, clean silken sheets for the classical area,
etc. If the players want to take some of the stuff in here (like the
potentially powerful cleaning chemicals, which a witty alchemist could always
do with) they must test their luck or dislodge some supporting part of the
piled-high shelves. If they fail, there is a cascade of tribble and junk to
crash down on them.
162... A bar, messy and apparently just recovering from a recently-departed
crowd of revelers. There are glasses and nuts scattered everywhere, and two
stressed-looking members of staff work behind the bar cleaning glasses, looking
panicked when they see the players enter. There are 1d6-1 bar patrons still in
here, blind-drunk. Roll their moods individually on a d6, 1-2 being
belligerent, 3-4 being neutrally and vague, and 5-6 being friendly. Friendly
drunks will give you helpful advice, if they can provide it.
163... A bar,
busy with 6d6 patrons. The atmosphere is charged, and the players are looked on
suspiciously. roll 1d6- on a 1-2, the patrons are here for a wedding and the
players are crashing, 3-4 the patrons are part of a business convention for a
small town guild, and have accidentally stumbled into the Rester, 5-6 they are
Professional Revelers from the City of Japes, who are reveling in the Rester
for the fame and acclaim.
164... A bar, empty and weirdly pristine. The bartender is overly smiley and
will gushingly offer anything the players ask for or mention for free, making
up flimsy and flattering excuses as to why ("you're the prettiest
demihuman I've had in here all day, you'll bring the customers in," etc).
If the players drink anything he gives they'll find it's spiked with lotus-petal,
a highly addictive motivation-sedative. Players afflicted by the lotus must
test their luck to do anything of consequence until they have successfully done
so three times in a row. By then they're back in the habit of Doing. Failed
tests result in them lounging in the same soulless hotel bar, perhaps
eternally. How else do all those business-looking-men end up haunting these
places?
165... A
stairwell, with doors leading to corridors on each of its 2d6 floors. On each
floor, reroll the area of the Rester. For corridors roll 2d6, subtract one,
then add 121. At the very bottom of the stairs is a boarded-up passage, a wall
of mismatched planks and nails. If the players try to dismantle it they find
themselves in a hotel or inn on some other world, with the gaping portal to the
Rester open behind them.
166... A circular room with a very pretty glass ceiling and eight doors leading
from it. In the center of the room is a small balding man with pale hair and
tar-black eyes. He will offer to pay the players in a currency most useful to
them if they can lead him to either the service tunnels or the penthouse (or
the lifts of 155), claiming that he is looking for his friend who works there.
He is in reality a Wanderer from the cosmic-entity of Roadsides, sent on a
mission of assassination. Second Sight checks will give players a mild headache
as they see only endless footsteps in the man. Players with a spell in any way
related to travel may test their luck to see if they recognise what type of
entity he is- if they do, they will likely know not to trust the capricious
imp.
211... A long and bare hall, with a huge table and two doors at the far side of
the room. All around it sit skeletons which appear at first to be sitting
still, but with a notice check (or any close interaction) they are actually
seen to be moving incredibly slowly. The players' interruption to this
conference of the dead will go unchallenged, unless they attempt to remove
anything from the table- at this point the skeletons will moan loudly and in a
dull drone. Security guards will enter from one of the other doors, and attempt
to apprehend and remove the players. If the players go with the security, they
will be taken through the Service Tunnels as a shortcut to the security office
(212)
212... A small
security office, which ostensibly serves the whole Rester. There are no other
doors from this room. Inside are 1d3 tired guards, and a selection of
electronical and magical CCTV screens. When the players enter the guards will
try to hurry them back out the way they came, but if they manage to convince
them to let them stay they can use their view of multiple rooms to map out
where they might find their next destination (roll 1d6 new rooms as a route,
with their destination room coming after that.) There's also a weird lost and
found cupboard in here- it looks like a tinny filing cupboard with a
poorly-stickered label, but opens into a room actually larger than the office
itself. Inside is all manner of goodies which, if the characters can lie convincingly
enough about having lost, the guards will let them take away. More than one or
two items each will probably clue the guards in that you're fibbing, though.
213... A small wardrobe whose other door is sealed shut. The players can force
it and gain entry into a dusty, dusty room in a regency style decoration, with
the skeletal remains of a man in a groom’s marital suit.
214... A room with a fine dining table set up and four delegates from the Guild
of Grand Synaesthetes sat around it. They are here to meet with an ambassador
from the Temple of the Actual Metaphor, to discuss some kind of partnership.
Unfortunately the ambassador hasn’t turned up because his Temple’s council had
a disagreement at the last moment over whether the Actual Metaphor named in
their holy scripture is simply a Metaphor for Metaphor itself, making it no
more Actual than any other. The delegates from the Guild will happily treat the
players as Ambassadors, though they know they are not.
215... A room with eight armed and unattended
children in it. The horror. Stats as goblins.
216… A room so
long and narrow it could be mistaken for a corridor. At the far end is a
rickety staircase leading up into a draughty attic whose windows look out onto
a gas-lit and rainy street.
221… A grand
dining room, with all the tables set aside to the walls and empty buffet
platters set upon them. Regardless of the current style-area the players are in
this room looks like a regency ballroom, decadent and elegant. There is only
one person in this room, a ghostly bride who is still waiting for her groom. If
the players have found the groom’s corpse in 213 they can give her rough
directions and end her dreadful curse in return for their pick of her toppling
heap of wedding presents.
222… A
hostel-style room full of beds, with 1d6 students on a field trip from the
Tower Academies lounging around and 1d3 hungover revelers from Jape trying to
sleep on the bunks. There is another door at the far end of the long hall, but
that only leads into a filthy toilet whose floor is flooded. If the water in
the bathroom is disturbed the players may notice a shape stirring beneath- it
is a Vomit Elemental, accidentally imbibed by a reveler and thrown up in here-
it has Skill 8, Stamina 12, Initiative 2 and Armour 1, and will attack in an
attempt to crawl into a players stomach and rest awhile there.
223… A massive
bathroom, with 2d6 times ten bathroom cubicles and 1d6 times ten showers.
Easily big enough to get lost in, and also home to the gross and bulbous Bog-Beast.
The Bog-Beast is a smaller and much more disgusting cousin to the Kraken. It’s
a stinking tentacle abomination that will be centred in one toilet cubicle with
its tentacles spread out through the plumbing and able to attack from each sink
and toilet respectively. Each tentacle has Skill 10, Stamina 4 and Initiative
1, and does damage as a small beast. For extra fun, make the players test luck
or realise they desperately need to pee when they enter this room.
224… A tiny
toilet cubicle that stinks to high heaven, in which there is a very hungover
junior member of staff that will disgorge secrets of the hotel in much the same
way he is disgorging most of his stomach-content- the players just need to look
after him for a bit to warm him up.
225… A room with
guests that have been turned to stone. Secretly roll 2d6 to determine how many
rooms ahead the Gorgon who did this has travelled. On a double 6 she is long
gone and the party need not worry.
226… A room that
has been converted into a shrine to St Joseph. His body is preserved and laid
out on the bed, and 2d6 Knights Hotelier guard him. His sword is a powerful
magical weapon, and could be given to a player who can convince the guards he
acts to protect the Rester.
231… A huge,
very flash and modern-looking kitchen. Staffed by a hulking beast of a chef
with Skill 10, Stamina 12, Initiative 2 and Damage as Cleaver (axe), and his 2d6
Monstrous Staff Kitchen assistants. Naturally, no guests are allowed in the
kitchen. So naturally, the chef will assume you are the latest delivery of
produce for him to transform into his exotic and delicious menu. Run.
232… A rather
sub-standard kitchen in which a hulking beast of a chef with Skill 10, Stamina
12, Initiative 2 and Damage as Cleaver (axe), and his rather unimpressive 1d6
assistants. All are lazy and feckless, and will give mostly accurate directions
to other parts of the hotel if you will take some room service with you and
drop it off on the way.
233… A room
inhabitant by man-sized sentient slugs, which will attempt to cuddle the
players so they can communicate using their pheromone slime. How the players
will interpret this totally innocent action is anyone’s guess.
234… A room in which
a metal death-golem is in stasis. It has Skill 15, Stamina 20 and Initiative 3,
and does damage as a Large Beast or Pistolet. It will not wake while the
players are present, but will activate when they have moved 1d6 rooms away and
sluggishly follow them, catching up if they dawdle for too long.
235… A room
covered in maddened scrawlings, with a disturbed investigative journalist
curled in a ball beneath the bed. She has seen the outside of the Rester and is
convinced it is capable of eating whole a Sphere, suggesting even that it has
done already.
236… A hotel lobby for the more abstract guests, i.e. other similar beings to
the Rester itself but for different concepts. The players must test their Luck
or be sent a little loopy by the sight of these impossible things. Roll 2d6 for
the number of concept-guests and populate them as you like from the following-
Spirit of … 11. Basins, 12. Strange Noises out on the Hallway, 13. Small
Mammals, 14. Letterboxes, 15. Daggers, 16. Tastefully Painted Nudes, 21. Credit
Cards (still working for a foothold on many Spheres), 22. Steam Engines, 23.
Clocks and Similar Round Timepieces, 24. Sundials (still annoyed at Clocks for
stepping in on their turf), 25. Cigarette Ashes, 26. Faux-Wooden Flooring, 31. Pamphlets,
32. Belts, 33. Bingo Halls, 34. Tiny Models of Houses, 35. Nasty Next-Door
Neighbours, 36. Pocket Lint
241… A room which is slowly shrinking. Players may get trapped in here if they’re
not careful, once the door gets too small. Testing their Luck means they shrink
with the room, but of course then when they do leave they are tiny, tiny
people.
242… A room filled with lush vegetation and the sounds of exotic birds. The
wallpaper is styled after vines and fern leaves, and there are some dangerous
venomous snakes lurking about the place. Somewhere in here is Professor
Bertrand Ceilier, notable expert on indoor botany.
243… A small corridor, badly furnished, leads the players out to the stables.
There are 3d6 horses stabled out here, and one glorious hellmount made of shining
chrome and gushing green gas from its nostrils.
244… A lobby
with glass doors that lead onto a large, domed veranda that acts as a hangar
for Golden Barges, Silver Yachts and everything in between. There’s a valet
present.
245… A set of
stairs leading down to a concrete multi-storey car-park underground with 6d6
floors. There aren’t that many cars down here, but the few left are now feral:
Skill 14, Stamina 24, Initiative 5, Damage as Modest Beast, or Gigantic Beast
if they have a run-up. These cars’ bonnets open up to reveal ghastly
engine-teeth, and one or two have even evolved enough to spit flaming petrol at
their prey.
246… A run-down
little storage area with a dumbwaiter on one wall. The players can request
almost anything via a little old-timey telephone mouthpiece near the door and
it will promptly be roped up. If they use it to go down, they will find
themselves in a bizarre hell-dimension like an insanely-exaggerated and
grotesque kitchen.
251… A room with
a glass wall just past the door. Beyond that wall a family of four humans
enjoys a traditional stay in the hotel room as suitable for the Area the
players are in. When the players go to leave, roll 1d3- on a 3, the players are
held up by a group of 1d3 strange, insectoid aliens who are here to observe the
human hotel-behaviours so they do not commit any faux-pas while here. If the
players try to get the actors in the room to pay attention to them, the actors
will tut and try to carry on despite the distraction.
252… A sitting
area full of comfortable sofas and chairs which has a Wanderer of the Roadside
being bound in silver chains by a group of Knights Hotelier.
253… A corridor of
administration offices, 2d6 doors leading into rooms in which 1d3 bored and
lazy humanoids lounge about pretending to do paperwork. There are stacks and
stacks of keys hanging on many of the walls, and at the end of the corridor is
a lift that only goes down to the service tunnels or up to the penthouse.
254… A narrow
wrought-iron stairway that veers after a while away from the walls, until the
players are clunking up steps over the void itself. At the very top, which
could take a while to reach, is a small wooden door leading into the Old Rooms.
These rooms are all decorated weirdly, and the corridor smells of something
familiar yet impossible to place. Inside the rooms are guests who are fragments
of very old gods and myth-figures, who were written into stories about taverns
and inns millennia ago and so must exist here in some form. Since they are
unfamiliar with concepts like currency, they are kept up here away from the
supposedly-paying guests. Most of the guests up here should be difficult to
really communicate with, but for each one roll 2d6. On a double six, one of the
characters recognises the figure as a lost character from myth on their world,
with stats as a dragon and a temper to match…
255… A room which is being prepared for new guests by the staff. They gently
shoo away the players, but will share a few directions to hurry you along out
of there.
256… A room that looks run down and dirty, with maggots and other grossnesses
in evidence. If the players tarry here for too long, they must test their luck
or have the cleaners turn up and blame them for the mess (1d6 Monstrous Staff
and 1d6 regular staff)
261… A room currently being inspected by one of the Managers. S/he will quiz
the players about their stay, and how they are enjoying it, and then shoo them
away.
262… A small café which serves strange
hot beverages that all taste vaguely of chicken soup. The staff loudly complain
that they are from a third-party company and didn’t realise this job would take
them outside of standard space-time. If any players look knowledgeable on such
matters they will be quizzed about how their timesheets will work without an
actual Reality for reference to.
263… A vast, slightly sweaty-smelling conference room playing host to a wizarding
convention. 3d6 times ten attendees, roughly half are wizards and half are
cosplayers. An excellent place to get information on the Rester from people who
came here on purpose, though most of the fake wizards are prone to just making
stuff up to sound clever and stay in character.
264… A room with a female troll dolling herself up for a night in the many
hotel bars. If the players linger to ask her questions, there’s a 1-in-6 chance
her boyfriend will show up. Players test their luck, and on a fail he turns out
to be the jealous type.
265… A miserable room whose bathroom has flooded and accidentally seeped into
another Sphere, one that is a single massive fog-wreathed ocean. 1-in-6 chance
of a seamonster beaching itself in the bathroom to eat the players.
266… The
Honeymoon Suite, a really great set of rooms that are safe and comfortable.
There is a key for the door hidden somewhere in the sumptuous quarters, and
once the players find it they can always find their way back here.
Special Rooms
Penthouse: The
"brain" of the Rester, the penthouse is a hotel room designed for
something distinctly inhuman. From the windows one can see the hotel stretch out
below and the hump-backed sky bustle overhead. The pristine white column at the
centre of the room, formed from some crystalline marble material, is the heart
of the Great Rester. Through a small door in its side, hidden by gentle magic
spells of misdirection and illusion, one may access the hotel's origin. The
door is a hole through the many layered walls that are built over one another
and arranged like sedimentary rock: from polished steel, to shiny marble, to
ornate plaster... all the way back to mud-hut clay, this door-cum-tunnel
eventually leads to the inside of a lonely little hut that is little more than
a stable. The creature sleeping at its centre is a cosmic intelligence's
concept of a mortal, weak and soft and fallible. It is still dreaming the dream
that eventually grew into the Great Rester, and if killed (or just woken,
perhaps) that dream will abruptly and rather disastrously end.
Service Tunnels: These tunnels
require a Luck Test at every junction to avoid getting thoroughly lost, since
they are vast, do not play fairly with the concept of regular space, and
identical. Each stretch of tunnel is the same gross pre-fab concrete, right
down the drip and grain marks in the floor and walls. The ceiling is lit by
strips of a strange glowing material, and on every stretch of tunnel is a
ladder which leads up into a different room. Players can get anywhere from
here, if they don't get terrifically lost. Once a ladder is used to exit the
tunnels, the hatch back down into them vanishes unless someone stays below to reopen
it. Random encounters down here are a little more dangerous, since the players
are very much not meant to be here- the staff that are too monstrous to be left
working in sight of guests are left here, and they all know they can treat
interlopers with extreme prejudice.
Monsters
Roll 1d2 and 1d6…
11 Thralligators, weird fungal-reptile hybrids with a a tough, barky exterior
and mushy gooey centre: Skill 7 and Stamina 10, Initiative 1 and Armour
2, damage as large beast Mien: 1. Lounging, 2. Hungry, 3. Curious, 4.
Territorial, 5. Aggressive, 6. Churlish
12 Vomit Elemental, just what it says on the tin. Crawls, slithers and
splashes aggressively: Skill 8, Stamina 12, Initiative 2 and Armour 1,
damage as modest beast Mien: 1. Lurking, 2. Shy, 3. Self-concious, 4.
Angry, 5. Malicious, 6. Sorrowful
13 Knight Hotelier, proud protector of hotels and travellers: Skill
7, Stamina 9, Initiative 2 and Armour 1, damage as weapon. Mien: 1.
Wary, 2. Bored, 3. Eager, 4. Foul-tempered, 5. Aggressive, 6. Mean
14 Sweep'N'Cleans, strange little re-purposed gnome creatures with silky
ears and nasty little sharp teeth. Employed in some strange way by the Rester
to clean corridors of litter, which they eat. Skill 3, Stamina 4
Initiative 2 and Armour 0, damage as small beast. Mien: 1. Skittish,
2. Peckish, 3. Bashful, 4. Wandering, 5. Intent, 6. Hungry
15 Monstrous Staff, come in
a variety of shapes and sizes, all of which are considered too frightening to
be seen by the guests. Skill 9, Stamina
12, Initiative 2, and Armour 1, Damage as either Modest or Large Beast. Mien:
1. Bashful, 2. Skulking, 3. Helpful, 4. Bitter, 5. Moping, 6. Raging.
16 Scrambling Leg-Monster, constructed “god” of a bizarre cult that
operates largely out of roadside motels. Looks like a very strange centipede,
loves trampling people and feeling all the squishy bits between its many, many
toes. Skill 14, Stamina 22, Initiative 3
and Armour 0, Damage as Large Beast. Mien: 1. Running around, 2. Running
around, 3. Fascinated by something underfoot, 4. Trying to pick up something
underfoot, 5. Angry, 6. Caught in the angst of its confusing body-horror
existence.
21 Cultist of the Fumbling-Leg-Lord, maddened
but quietly intelligent, with some extensive experience in limb removal and
reattachment. Skill 8, Stamina 8,
Initiative 1 and Armour 0, damage as weapon. Mien: 1. Mournful, 2. Pensive,
3. Chatty, 4. Evangelical, 5. Mid-Crisis, 6. Arrogant.
22 Feral Guest, a long-term guest in the Rester who
has, through a run of very bad luck, not run into another living being in
years. Now feral and hungry. Skill 8,
Stamina 6, Initiative 2 and Armour 0, damage Unarmed. Mien: 1. Ravenous, 2.
Sleepy, 3. Friendly, 4. Angry, 5. Suspicious, 6. Guileless.
23 Hotel-Room Bandits¸ Highwayman style robbers who
specialise in jacking hotel rooms, attended or otherwise. Usually travel
together, so roll 1d3 for how many of them have turned up. Skill 7, Stamina 8, Initiative 2, and Armour 1, Damage as Pistolet or
sword. Mien: 1. Lecherous, 2. Avaricious, 3. Romantic, 4. Gruff, 5.
Mournful, 6. Pithy
24 Wanderer of the Roadside, A malevolent spirit of the
Roads and Ways, sent no doubt to do mischief in the embodiment of their enemy.
Looks like an ashen and dark-eyed humanoid, charming in a no-good-rock’n’roll-drifter
kind of way. Skill 13, Stamina 20,
Initiative 4 and Armour 1, Damage as weapon or Modest Beast. Mien: 1.
Good-humoured, 2. Restless, 3. Curious, 4. Tired-yet-wired, 5. Edgy, 6. Cruel.
25
Middle-Manager, a being whose soul and content has been
fundamentally altered to make them more amenable and efficient in their service
to the Great Rester. Gender is difficult to distinguish in the pant-suit, and
voice is unnaturally atonal. Skill 13,
Stamina 20, Initiative 2 and Armour 1, Damage as Small Beast or weapon. Mien:
1. Servile, 2. Snooty, 3. Fastidious, 4. Harassed, 5. Tired-yet-wired, 6.
Irate.
26 Standard Staff-Member, worked to
the bone for either minimum wage or because they stayed too long and can’t
remember what an Actual Reality looks like. Skill
6, Stamina 6, Initiative 2 and Armour 0, Damage as weapon. Mien: 1.
Exhausted, 2. Servile, 3. Abrupt, 4. Friendly, 5. Mindless, 6. On the edge of
quitting.
Possible Plots
Attack on the Rester – 136,
141, 166, 226 & 252 are all pertinent rooms to this plot, which has the
players wittingly or unwittingly drawn into an attack on the Great Rester and
so, by extension, on the very concept of hotels themselves. Such an adventure
would presumably end in the Penthouse, possibly via the lifts of 155 or 253.
Defending the Rester – 136, 141, 166,
226 & 252 are similarly pertinent here, since the players will be defending
the Rester from the forces of Roadside and any other enemies. May similarly end
in the Penthouse, via 155 or 253. Consider placing Wanderers of the Roadside as
enemies with a little more frequency.
Rescue from the Rester – Your client
has a vested interest in retrieving someone in the Rester, and will pay you handsomely
to help. Pre-roll which room the target will be in (or choose an appropriate
target after reading ahead) and then have fun trying to get there and then
trying to convince the target to leave with this rag-tag bunch of misfits.
Escape from the Rester – You just
woke up here. You have serious business elsewhere in the multiverse. How are
you going to get out? 244 and 165 are pertinent rooms.
