Monthly Archives: February 2010

Earth Delta: Alpha Edition 1.2!

Earth AD — Alpha Edition 1.2!

No, you didn’t miss Alpha 1.1. That was the "internal release" where I changed the name. 🙂

This release is 66% larger than the prior release, jumping from 30,000 to 50,000 words, and at least some of those words aren’t contained in overly long, overly repetitive rants about game design or redundant over-explaining of concepts and rules. Some of them. I wouldn’t say most of them, but some of them.

Full details on what’s added after the break.

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Earth AD: Alpha Edition 1!

Earth AD — Alpha Edition 1!

OK, it’s here. I finally said "To hell with it." and just did what every good publisher does — burn what’s on the hard disk and call it a release. Assuming I do this right, there should be a PDF file you can click from here. Download it, read it, enjoy it, then post to this article to tell me how great it is what needs to be changed. Please remember this is a very early alpha draft of a system still being heavily designed.

Click the glowing radiation symbol!(But you’ll now get the file for Earth Delta 1.3, which is the latest version.)


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024 The Carven Spires

The Carven Spires

Seen through a scrying mirror, or from some other secure vantage point, this layer of the Abyss possesses some measure of eerie beauty. It is a realm of tall, graceful, spires of stone, in a dozen shades of tan and orange and brown, straining towards a sky of the palest blue, rarely seen through the flowing streams of yellow clouds. The spires are marked by endless twists, circling them, cut into them in a variety of never repeating patterns, some deep, some shallow, some symmetrical, some chaotic. Shadows in the rocks hint at caves cut even deeper into the stone. There is a ceaseless low whistling noise, not enough to be bothersome at first. The air thickens with distance, so the true size of the layer is unguessable, but from your presumably safe viewing portal, the column-laden landscape goes on forever.

Then the whistling picks up, and you see something, or someone, scrambling along one of the narrow ledges which form around each spire, the consequence of whatever force carved it. The figure moves rapidly, too rapidly to be safe, its feet slipping and nearly sliding from the precarious foothold as it struggles to move, clinging against the rock. It’s not at all evident what is causing its panic, as the ledge is reasonably safe so long as caution is maintained, but it grows ever more frantic as the whistling increases in volume. Yellow mist begins to stream in, moving quickly now, and then the storm comes, a gale of golden-hued fog that whips around the spires, blocking all vision for a moment.

Then it retreats, and nothing remains of the struggling subject of your scrying except a rapidly collapsing pile of bones, and the narrow path on which he walked is carved a little deeper.

The acidic winds move on.

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