Some example Books of Shadows:

The Book of Stone has been in your family for over 500 years. It contains rites and rituals, descriptions of mystical beings, esoteric recipes, and many, many diary entries. Somehow, there are still dozens of blank pages at the back, and you’re expected to add to the book as your ancestors did. It’s huge and unwieldy and packed with content in no particular order, so in 1680, an ancestor of yours created a companion volume, the Book of Dust. Much smaller, frequently revised or even replaced, the Book of Dust acts as an index for the Book of Stone, making it much more practically usable. An older relative of yours is currently working on converting the Book of Dust into a hyperlinked, searchable, easily updatable PDF document, and when it’s ready you will have the easiest access any of your ancestor witches have ever had to the Book of Stone.

The box of microcassettes you discovered in the attic was apparently created by your uncle back in the 80s. When he committed suicide, his note said only DON’T THROW AWAY MY TAPES, and your mother complied, storing them away and forgetting them. There are over a hundred unnumbered, unlabeled cassettes thrown haphazardly into the box, and when others listen to them they hear only static. But you hear your uncle’s whispering voice, detailing his research, his experiments, and his despair at being a solitary witch and gay man with no-one to talk to about either. Putting the tapes into some kind of order and documenting their contents seems like a herculean task, but somehow whenever you pull out a random tape and listen to it, something your uncle says is always at least tangentially relevant to what’s currently going on in your life. Is it confirmation bias or is it magic? Either way it’s always helpful.

Garnet House was designed and built by your grandfather, but your family didn’t move there until recently. Everyone comments on how odd the design is, with strange angles, weirdly shaped rooms, maze-like gardens, stairs and doors that don’t seem to lead anywhere, and an almost comical number of gables and tower rooms. Just an old man’s folly, but the family can’t seem to sell it and it’s big, so… Only you seem to recognize the numerological and geometrical codes built into the house, secrets your grandfather must have meant for you. Sleeping in the house guarantees dreams – a different dream for every room – and each dream teaches you a new rite, spell, or charm. And some of the rooms give you nightmares. What did your grandfather trap in that tower room?

I just saw Netflix re-added The Covenant as a streaming title so if you haven’t seen it and want to see one of the inspirations for WD it’s there

But don’t expect actual queerness in the movie it’s all subtexts

Important thing about WD that I need to keep emphasis even for myself: I always describe the game as about youthful, hot queer men. Gotta not include invisible “white cisgender able bodied affluent muscle twink” in that list.

Sample chars include bear cubs and brown guys and trans guys and guys with prosthetics and wispy fey guys and guys who speak English as a second language and etc. because queer doesn’t have one look dammit.

Posting this a few days early because of Reasons. Short fiction, not very good, blame the drugs/pain.

At the Fraternity Party

“Hey,” Samir called out as Rusty took off toward the kegs, “remember to play it cool. They have to like us. This is our ticket out of that crappy dorm room, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got this,” the bigger boy grunted as he ambled off through the crowd. He didn’t seem very enthused about the party, which was weird for him.

And it’s my ticket to having a room of my own. And no roommate. Samir was a little surprised at how reluctant he was to follow through now that the plan was actually in action, though. He liked Rusty. Who would have thought that would happen, back when the semester started? They were so different – big, loud, football-playing party animal Rusty Ramirez and skinny, quiet, bookish Samir Kesari – but they’d learned to get along as roommates and even as friends. At least for now. But if he finds out the truth about me…better to just get some distance before that happens.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and a quiet voice in his ear. “You’re Samir, right?”

He turned to see a short, thin boy in an oversized leather jacket that made him look smaller than he already was. He had short bleached blond hair with an emerald green streak and sported the wispy beginnings of a moustache. “I am. Have we met?” And do you have a boyfriend? Because you are the cutest guy on the planet.

“My name’s Sage. And I’m here as a…recruiter, I guess you’d say. You’re on the shortlist for Southridge House. It’s a fairly exclusive fraternity, you won’t have heard of us.”

“You’re right. Huh. Do the Kappas know that you’re here at their party poaching potential pledges?”

Sage smiled. “No. But I trust you to keep my secret. Just like you can trust me and my frat brothers to keep yours. You belong with us, Samir. This isn’t the place for you. You and I both know that you aren’t like most of the other guys here.”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. “How…” Samir sputtered for a moment, then lowered his voice to an angry hiss. “I haven’t told anyone. How did you know I was gay?”

“OH MY GOD, YOU’RE GAY?!?” Somehow Rusty was suddenly right behind Samir, two plastic cups of beer in his hands. Samir’s stomach twisted. Am I going to hurl? I’m pretty sure I’m going to hurl. This is the worst case scenario. This is…

“This is AWESOME! I’m gay too! I was afraid to tell you because I thought you might be, like, religious or some shit. DUDE. We can totally be Best Gay Buds now! This rocks! We can talk about what guys we think are hot!”

“…yeah?” Samir was still in a state of confusion.

“And I can be your wingman!”

“…yeah!”

“And when I hook up with someone on Grindr I can bring him home instead of having to go to his place!”

“Yeah!…wait, what?”

“Dude, this is so cool!” Rusty crushed Samir in a giant bear hug, sloshing beer onto him.

A soft cough came from Sage’s direction. “I take it you’re Orville? I’m Sage. I’m here to invite both of you to join my…frat and come live at Southridge House.”

Rusty untangled himself from Samir and made a face. “Nobody calls me that. Just call me Rusty. And what, this is, like, some special frat just for gay dudes?”

“Not exactly. It’s for witches.”

Samir’s stomach twisted again, worse than before. Really gonna hurl, he thought for a moment, before Rusty’s beaming face caught his attention.

“DUDE! You’re…I’m…THIS IS GOING TO BE SO FUCKING AWESOME!”

Maybe it is, Samir thought. Then he puked on Rusty’s shoes.

I was just packing up computer stuff and found an old ezternal drive and checked to see what was on it. It had my old inDesign playbook templates that I thought I had lost, which will be a huge help for updating Skins for the Skinless and for when I get around to making nice printable playbooks for Witchdudes.

Down side: dunno when I will be able to get to those things. Computer time may be about to become super limited.

And the other new one (and the last archetype). I hope to get a small piece of Witchdudes fiction up on Patreon before the end of this week, which means I might be able to post it here next week.

You are the Blood Witch.

That sounds scary and violent, but it’s not. Well. Only as scary as life is scary. Only as violent as life is violent. Because that’s what you’re all about – life. Human life, for sure, but all the other animal life as well, anything with blood running through its veins and even some creatures without. Because of your connection to the primal forces of life, you tend to be pretty primal yourself – you love to camp, to hike, to run and swim, to hunt and fish – responsibly, of course. You’ve been mistaken for a lumberjack, for a forest ranger, and once for Tarzan. Your uncanny connection with animals means you might be volunteering in a veterinary clinic or animal shelter, and you almost certainly have at least one pet (probably a lot more). Your intimate knowledge of the physical body means that alternatively you might be studying medicine or massage – or you might even want to become a crime scene investigator. So much focus on the meat sometimes means a lack of attention to the ghost living in the meat, and you sometimes fumble at interpersonal communication or the upper reaches of Maslow’s Hierarchy. On the up side, you’re almost always in perfect health, and you’re probably great at a variety of sports, so people tend to like you anyway.

Your magic is the magic of the red lifeforce animating all creatures, raw and dripping and tasting of rusted iron. You can communicate with animals, although that’s not as exciting as it sounds – most animals aren’t that bright and don’t have much to say. But it’s easy for you to convince them to help you out when you need it, and if necessary you can even duplicate some of their talents – a keen sense of smell, protective coloration, the ability to extract oxygen from water – in yourself. You’re a powerful healer, restoring the life-aura when it weakens or enhancing the body’s natural capacity to fight off infections. You can strengthen primal urges for food, shelter, or sex, amplify the survival instinct to cause someone to fight or flee, or invoke the aspect of the predator to dominate those weaker than yourself. When you call upon the guardians of the Watchtower Within, you gain control over all blood and flesh. You can knead a wound closed like clay, reshape someone’s face, cause an enemy to spontaneously bleed, or even – with a lot of effort and for a short time – transform yourself into an animal shape.

Your name probably reflects your nature, directly or indirectly: Ahijit, Buck, Colt, Corbin, Fahed, Hawk, Hu, Jay, Kame, Leo, Orson, Pike

New archetypes from Patreon, now shared with everybody!

You are the Crystal Witch.

Space cadet. Dreamer. Scatterbrain. Head in the clouds. People – even your friends – say all of this and more about you. It’s not that you’re dumb or anything, it’s just that you’re very focused. What they don’t realize is that you’re not focused on the here and now, but on what’s to come. Every little detail can be an omen. Every stray thought might be a premonition. You’re not a flake, you’re a seer, and knowing what’s ahead on the road can help you steer clear of threats and hazards. As long as you have a plan, you know you can get through anything. Unfortunately, when something takes you by surprise – which happens more often than you’d like to admit – it can knock you off-center and leave you feeling vulnerable and panicked. Still, everyone knows you’re the guy to go to when they want to talk about their hopes and ambitions, because somehow you always seem to know how to make them come to fruition. You tend to be right on the mark when interpreting others’ dreams, as well.

Your magic is the magic of sight, showing you the outlines of the future through the refracting brilliance of a prism or the slight distortion of smoky quartz. Knowledge of what might happen in five minutes gives you the power to change what you’ve seen, creating a future more to your liking. You also tread with confidence through the realm of dreams, exploring your own mindscape or those of the sleepers around you, and interacting with the archetypes and spirits that inhabit that realm. Unlike others in your coven, you use a lot of tools and props – crystal balls, mesmerizing baubles, tiny statuettes carved from jade or malachite, or discs of sardonyx carved with pentagrams or runes. If necessary you could make use of the tarot or even tea leaves, but you just feel more at home with the dazzling facets and vibrant colors of your jewels. When you call on the spirits of the Watchtower Before, you can animate your precious stones or propel them with great speed, sending a tiny jade elephant to deliver a small package to a friend, knocking someone over with a hurtling geode, or surrounding yourself with a halo of sharp-edged gems to keep someone at bay.

Your name probably reflects your nature, directly or indirectly: Bhasura, Garnet, Jacinth, Jaden, Jawhar, Jing, Kito, Larimar, Mica, Nevada, Onyx, Turk

Day of the Dead seems an appropriate time to share this one with non-Patrons. More stuff coming for you guys soon (want to get it out to the wider community before I’m out of the house).

You are not the Bone Witch.

No one is the Bone Witch. Not anymore.

They used to exist. They existed for most of human history, alongside all the other witches. They were connected to the Watchtower Without, the void that exists between life and what comes after. They were necromancers who could call up departed souls and learn from their wisdom, help them complete their unfinished business, allow them to claim the justice they were denied in life. They stood up for the marginalized and the outcast. They could bring rot and decay with a touch, restoring balance and revitalizing the earth.

But nobody knows the way to the Watchtower Without now. Not for hundreds of years. Not since the Fratricide, the most infamous oathbreaker in history, tried to claim immortality for himself by killing every other human being who shared his bloodline.

He didn’t succeed at becoming immortal, at least. It took a full coven of witches to kill him, and even then they would have failed without the help of a Sisterhood coven and some others – everyone could see the danger of an eternal warlock with such power over death. But despite that failure, he succeeded at murdering his great sprawling family. One of the primal witchlines gone. Erased forever.

Probably.

Two and a half new witches up for patrons on Patreon. The half one isn’t playable, it’s setting fluff.

I might still get a short fiction piece up tonight, or I might not. We’ll see.

http://www.patreon.com/topher

New Witchdudes stuff going up on Patreon today in three or four installments, depending on whether I stop fiddling with one of them.