*update* 04/02/2024 Hexes 1 and 28 added.
Tony is working on logos and shit for our new website.
Tony drew the bird, the pizza, and the beer. Another artist painted it on the wall.
I've made a playlist for Alaska (on youtube, it's the only place most of these songs are available [damn shame] which sucks because Starred is one of the best bands I've discovered).
I recommend listening to rap when playing TTRPGs with your friends. I carefully curated the playlist to reflect Alaska Violence's hexes. These are the songs I will burn to a CD for Yorgos Lanthimos to listen to when he buys the movie rights. It will win more Oscars than Poor Things. Rob Pattinson and Matt Dillon will be in the movie. Someone in the film will be decapitated.
Here's a moose Sean Richer drew me.
*update* 03/18/2024 New hexes added (7, 15, 17, 18, 21, 22, 23) *update*
Before I begin, Violence is a rules-lite TTRPG by Luke Gearing (available on his blog, itch, or purchase a physical copy from Spear Witch). All proceeds from this project go to Ukraine refugee aid. Fuck war.
Hex 1.
Moose joust over a mate.
A Beaver dam. Did you know the anal gland of the beaver is very expensive and used in making perfumes?
D20 people wearing black hats and jackets, a blue logo on their backs, it says PBJ Fishing. They’re not fishing on company time. One of them is moving awkwardly while the others laugh around him. A squirrel climbs a tree carrying two nuts.
He cuts holes in the ice with his chainsaw, then fishes and drinks on the lake for d4 days. His truck is parked on ice. There's a camper in the bed of the pickup truck. Only he knows the safe path to drive the truck on the frozen lake.
The forest is made of furs and pines laced with cobwebs and rivulets of frozen sap. The woods are saturated underfoot and overhead, dark and dripping and slippery, dead falls covered with a skin of slime. On the ground is an old felt hat with netting tied around the brim to keep mosquitos off. A warning of things to come. If players spend the night here, they will be attacked by a mosquito swarm if they’re not cautious.
Lucianne washed her hands and clothes here, back in '66, after she finished burying her husband next to a tree marked with a crossed L+M, not too far from the river. If his body is dug out, Mark will have more bones than rotten meat; he is still wearing a Speedo and a waterproof Seiko on his wrist. He kept his promise.
Six pounds of coffee, ten pounds of sugar, two dozen tins of milk, twenty-five pounds of flour, six pounds of butter, six dozen eggs, twenty-five pounds of potatoes, twelve loaves of bread, five T-bone steaks, four bars of yellow Lenox soap, a thousand pounds of fish heads for the foxes to eat, and a shortwave radio—all inside a sailboat. Driving the sailboat with intentions of stealing from the fox farm, there are: Chris Richie, Lionel R, and Tucson Broad. Only Tucson can pilot a boat and bosses the other two around. Lionel is the evilest, therefore he has a fake eye, a single golden tooth and a scar from his forehead to his chin. Chris wants to be like Lionel but lacks the funds, hence this crime, wears a pink polo. Tucson likes boats, cocaine, and pussy, in this order, looks like Al Pacino or De Niro and only wears white. They’re all trigger happy and cocained.
Hex 17. Underground magma creates hot springs, sitting on the ring of fire.
Hex 18. A wet fog that came down and never lifted again. You can find two men decapitated, naked, hands removed. They once wrote a few books together.
Hex 20. Disillusionment Bay - A Series of Small Islands The most run-down shack in White Eye belongs to Too-Much Jackson. Grass grows a foot high on the roof, hemp sacking is nailed over the windows, a pile of rusting muskrat traps (their glands sell for a lot for stuff like perfume), the door is a tattered blanket, inside: sacks of meal, a tin stove, a woman sitting on a broken chair in a corner, an old brass bedstead without a mattress, an old sheepskin coat hanging from a peg near the tin stove, the woman will say that she no longer wishes to be the wife of Too-Much Jackson, her name is Sipsu, with no one to grant her justice and no way to escape the desolation that is this lot, she will request the players to grant her a divorce, any white man will do, it means more than the missionary that wedded them, Too-Much Jackson will stalk the party and attempt to murder the man who grants her this request. In a smokehouse he has tied up a man who has gone mad from mosquitos. Will try to get a reward to “saving him” or turn him loose on the players. The Other Side of the Bay On the other side of the bay lives Olaf Olafson, a blue fox farmer. Blue fox farming isn’t so difficult on this island, otherwise, he wouldn’t do it. Most blue foxes are not aggressive towards humans, they’re hard to catch though. Olaf lives and runs his fox farm on this island with his four malamutes, fiercest dogs you’ve ever seen; is married to a Native woman named Passuk, traded one fox for her hand; a stinky cabin, the roof glints green with fungus, one large room built crudely of unpeeled logs and moss to fill the spaces between the logs, parchment windows, kerosene lamps hang from the rafters. The native tribe across the waters don’t like him; has a mostly charred and burned-down sailboat. There are about two hundred foxes screaming, running, shitting, fucking on top of an indigenous burial ground. Each one is worth about eight hundred dollars, but the natives are afraid of Olaf Olafson, he can’t sleep because the foxes bark all day, his eyes are always red. Passuk names each blue baby fox and cares for them with her longhaired cats. The cats are great mothers, but Passuk throws every child she has borne into the freezing water of the lake, out of respect towards the dead under the farm. The baby foxes would be eaten by the others, no doubt. A Gentleman at The Gamelands wants to buy the best blue foxes in Alaska.
Hex 21. A Camp in a Clearing… Or what is left of it.
Downed tents, brand-new shirts, pants, drawers, boots, and hunting caps stung about, sacks of dried apricots and beans slashed open and scattered among the clothes and ashes. A slab of bacon lying on a heap of trampled canvas tents, bottles of whiskey, and a new axe.
Hex 22. Two men hide in sleeping bags in the roots of a dead spruce, reeking of whiskey. One has a rifle, and the other is unconscious and wrapped in ripped clothing, a bloody mummy.
Hex 23. A grizzly bear in hyperphagia (an extreme hunger that cannot be satisfied) has caught 30 salmon today.
A seaplane named Electra sits in a spruce grove—its final resting place—intact except for the sheared-off landing gear and a missing wing. The cabin is packed tightly from rear to front and floor to ceiling with more than a thousand pounds of sealskins. The pilot is buried inside the half-ton of fur, smiling and still warm; dead by suffocation.
Homesteader claiming land. When he speaks nothing in his face moves. Carries a rifle (.300 H&H magnum) and has a stiff stride. Wears chain mail.
Ferris Bueller's Day Off VHS tape. A green finger.
