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Strange Aeon (Game Keeper Edition)

Strange Aeon (Game Keeper Edition)

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That which is not deadThat is not dead which can eternal lie and with strange aeons even death may die.

The stars!... The stars are... wrong.

"No. The stars are right. The stars are right at last..."

"Midwich. Then. 1978.

"In those early days, she vibrated with occult activity. Forests fringing the north of the town glowed bright with the light of burning torches. Hooded figures murmured in underground temples. People, unprepared for the rise of eldritch phenomena, were shocked by events that seemed biblical in tone. The police seemed powerless, or somehow snared within a web of occult corruption. A once green and pleasant land was swollen with a deep, unwholesome energy and the air crackled and sparked like a living entity.

"Those were the last days of the Earth. Though we didn't know it at the time; these were the death throes of life as we knew it.

"Did they come from unfathomable voids between the stars? Did they rise from the murky depths of ocean trenches, or oblivion sockets hidden far below ground? Nobody of this time - of the After Years - knows which doom was the one true doom.

"Perhaps all were triggers for armageddon, each playing a part in man's final perdition. Perhaps something else was to blame. It hardly seems relevant in these latter days, when nothing but staying alive consumes our every waking thought.

"We who survive know only that the Earth was transformed and the great works of man obliterated overnight. The mundane - all so firm in its foundations; immovable and vibrant - shifted by degrees and the cities, civilizations, lights and laughter of our world fell away, replaced by the dark... and The Mist.

"In place of our towns and cities came their monoliths, architectures belched forth from the diseased minds of ineffable, unknowable designers. In place of our sprawling society and concrete realms, the earth fell away into pits of empty shadow and spearing mountains of green mold-obsidien, like lime coloured ice lancing into shattered skies. Their mountains. Their skies.

"No builders from an alien realm erected these mausoleum cities. They simply arrived, unfolding from the inner realm of nightmares in ways that made them seem - to those of us who witnessed their coming - as though they had been there all along, patiently awaiting this apocalypse dawn.

"Out of such necropolis towns came tendril mists, rolling like dragon-breath across the fields and downs of our homeland. And from the cold, white gloom came shapes and silhouettes whose very forms were a blasphemy against nature. They writhed, seethed and hissed in their idyll, alpha predators to whom all the world and all worlds were now prey.

"We call it The Morbus. Not a fog but The Fog - a relentless, diseased mist from which nothing escapes. It drifts over the hills and about the roots of those livid, alien mountains. It slides across the grey ruins of our fallen homes and our wastelands alike. It hides Them - the stalking horrors whose piping and hooting portends imminent death and whose all-permeating mould-stench chokes the air with an inescapable reek of decay.

"They are the things that dwell within the mist, born from who dares know where or what. Stealthy, furtive and sly, they slide on slick coils or scrabble on deformed limbs until that moment when prey comes within reach and suddenly all turns to whiplash violence, screams and blood. No more need for creeping. No more need to hide and watch. The nights are always filled with the sound of their feasting.

"Midwich. Now. 1985.

"Seven years have passed and somehow, against all the odds, we few prevail. The ruins of the old town now provides limited shelter against The Morbus and the entities that lurk and murder in the folds of mist, though I use the term shelter with no small cynicism, for truly nowhere on Earth is safe for our kind. Not anymore.

"This is our base, but not our home. We must return, it seems, but only for short periods. Salvation we have found, by sublime irony, within the depths of the very dimensional magic that is no doubt responsible for the fate of our planet.

"Let me explain..."


Contains a 345 page Game Keeper bible with everything the Keeper needs to find players, find somewhere to play, play a game and make it fun. Includes the 47 page player edition so you can print a bunch of references for your group. For the Game Keeper, we've written a guide and a tutor, not a reference manual. With this edition you can play like a master with an easy to learn system, loads of graphical visual aids, three full adventures and a setting at your fingertips. New, unique, terrifying, easy to learn and FUN. 

The fully illustrated print edition is now available at the Forever People website for £19.98!
Go here to order your copy. International delivery available for local delivery fees! 

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Discussions (1)
Customer avatar
Anne T February 02, 2017 1:18 pm UTC
Ummmm, aren't you a little concerned that the name of your new RPG is nearly identical to that of the current Pathfinder Adventure Path (they just released #5/6) AND the miniature skirmish game of eldritch horror that is in its 2nd edition? And any number of other things? This could result in brand confusion and dilution - just dropping the "s" at the end doesn't make it any more original or different.
Customer avatar
David S February 04, 2017 1:01 pm UTC
No we're not concerned in the slightest. The name is taken from an H P Lovecraft passage and is completely unrelated to Pathfinder, the miniature skirmish game or, if we're going to mention it, the Chaosium title of the same name (with an s). This title covers the strange aeon Lovecraft spoke about when he said 'even death may die', so it's relevant, within copyright bounds (Lovecraft is not the intellectual property of any of the companies you mention).
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File Last Updated:
January 30, 2017
This title was added to our catalog on January 30, 2017.