Tumgik
#strangeness
mournfulroses · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
John Keats, from Selected Poems & Letters of John Keats; "Endymion,"
339 notes · View notes
unexplainedthings · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
727 notes · View notes
vintagerpg · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
What Happened at Wyvern Rock? (2020, I think) feels like a companion to Other Magic. Perhaps that’s just because I bought them at the same time as part of the same collection. Perhaps because they are both illustrated with lovely woodcuts (though with very different styles). But I think thematically, too. Where Other Magick imports folk magic to RPGs, the stated intention of Wyvern Rock is to bring Strangeness to D&D.
Drew Meger defines Strangeness as an experience or encounter that seems to challenge or defy our underlying understanding of the real world. That seems a touch broad to me, but in practice, Meger is essentially talking about the specific sense of strangeness attached to UFO sightings, cryptids and the fog of mystical and quasi-scientific oddness that tends to surround both. UFOs and Grey Aliens and the Moth Man are concepts that feel very much rooted in the 20th century, but in a weird way, they work extremely well in the context of D&D.
The zine is mostly interested in the Greys and in portraying these aliens and building adventures around them, I can’t help but be reminded of Delta Green, where they, and the Fungi from Yuggoth that control them, work in a similar way. I would not have thought that recontextualizing alien abduction folkore into D&D would work so well, but then I was kind of dubious about Call of Cthulhu meets X-Files, and I love that game now, so really, what do I know?
The main zine is accompanied by a bit of fiction called On Tattered Wings. It’s a fun little bit of cryptids meet D&D cotton candy with some fantastic art. I love Meger’s fusion of UFOs, Lovecraftiana and D&D imagery generally, but it really comes together for me in the fiction zine.
266 notes · View notes
notdelusionalatall · 29 days
Text
Tumblr media
69 notes · View notes
acknowledgetheabsurd · 7 months
Quote
You know that I don't like being on the sidelines, that I have only contempt for the "misunderstood" kind.  But I really have the singular, and sometimes painful impression of monologue. I tend to find the universe where I live natural and every time I confront it with that of others I get reactions of strangeness as if far from being natural it was crazy and disproportionate. What can I do about it? Rhyming bits and butt stories, maybe - to test myself. Tomorrow is a sad day that comes to me with waves of mist. I tell myself, to encourage me, that we are soon halfway through this exile. Soon! Write me, just once, a long detailed letter - that warms me up a little. Love me! I kiss you, as you desire, as I desire you.... Ah! My love, do you remember the trucks at dawn in Senlis?  The silence returned, and at night you were burning. Me, happy... as much as I am unhappy today. I love you.
Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 4, 1950 [#169]
26 notes · View notes
alienerad · 1 month
Text
He thought he would probably never get better. Years ago he had dreaded this coming, the coming of this dread, dying in a strange land that did not want him. That was years ago, and the country still felt strange. It still felt like somewhere he would one day leave.
/ Abdulrazak Gurnah, The Last Gift (2011)
7 notes · View notes
ardent-reflections · 9 months
Text
There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness.
Edgar Allan Poe
21 notes · View notes
corvianbard · 4 months
Text
There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in proportion.
Edgar Allan Poe
9 notes · View notes
yeswearemagazine · 11 months
Photo
Tumblr media
Fantastic, how the left eye is isolated, in a wonderful strange, ominous image, for the first YWAMag selection of the Portuguese painter and photographer Carlos Teixeira. Also deserves the absolute best, and to be seen big size. Untitled, Braga, Portugal © Carlos Teixeira Text : Basile Pesso - YWAMag director since 2 014
22 notes · View notes
quietflorilegium · 1 month
Text
Mr. Lynn gave her one of his considering looks. “People are strange,” he said. “Usually they’re much stranger than you think. Start from there and you’ll never be unpleasantly surprised.”
Diana Wynne Jones, "Fire and Hemlock"
4 notes · View notes
cmweller · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
Challenge #03770-J117: Big Chaos
Small Human Child: "For some reason, I always do a chaos if I'm not next to Rennie at bed time."
Small Child's Parent: "It's true. You don't want to see it. I didn't want to see it last night. Can you play quietly until I'm ready to go to bed?"
SHC: "Maybe." -- Escla
Companion Ghayth considered the very small Human currently playing with their KidReader(tm)[1]. They were peacefully guiding a digital effigy on a randomly-generated world. Chopping trees and digging up things and taking scans of the flora and fauna.
They didn't seem to be that threatening, but these were also Humans. Whatever a 'chaos' was, Ghayth didn't want to witness it. "How bad of a destruction radius are we talking about?"
"I was cleaning glitter and sticky stuff out of the vent filters for two months," said Human Url, petting her kid's shoulder. "That's a chaos I never want to repeat."
[Check the source for the rest of the story]
24 notes · View notes
innervoiceartblog · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
8 notes · View notes
unexplainedthings · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
896 notes · View notes
beljar · 2 years
Text
I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.
Haruki Murakami, from Sputnik Sweetheart, April 20, 1999
109 notes · View notes
notdelusionalatall · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
107 notes · View notes
alienerad · 1 month
Text
That feeling — that there was something to be ashamed of — had been with him most of his life, even when he did not know of its presence and had only slowly begun to understand its several causes. It added to the sense of difference and oddness that he had grown up with, a sense of strangeness. He had learned to recognise that feeling in many ways, and not just in response to hostility and unkindness and the teasing at school. He saw it in the stilted and careful smiles he received from some of the mothers of other children he knew, in the way people tried hard to prevent him from noticing that they had seen something to notice, in the ingenuous and sometimes insistent and cruel questions the children asked about his country and its customs. It was years before he learned to say this is my country.
/ Abdulrazak Gurnah, The Last Gift (2011)
6 notes · View notes