I'll take informed fandom...
The theme is something like:
Spoiler (click to reveal)
Keeper Wins 1A: You make a willing sacrifice of the appropriate character as described in Act 2 of the play, allowing unimaginable horrors to do unimaginable things.
Investigators Win 1A: You are able to break the script's magic and burn it, destroying the evil play and breaking its hold on you.
Keeper Wins 1B: You look down at the blood on your hands. What have you done? ...exactly what you should have done. The heretic has been vanquished in the name of your lord. You join your fellow cultists on the court. Live to die for the tattered one.
Investigators Win 1B: You destroy the evil relics which breaks the play's hold on you.
Keeper Wins 1C: Julian escapes with his script. A month later, The Court of Carcosa begins being performed in cities across the country. Society collapses into chaos.
Investigators Win 1C: The playwright is dead and the play will never see the light of day again.
I don't have enough time (or enough eloquence) to write up proper, elaborate epilogues at the moment, though.
From what I remember, I think Clue 1's flavor text usually provides a good idea of what the epilogues would be.
- Last edited Fri Oct 12, 2012 10:14 pm (Total Number of Edits: 1)
- Posted Fri Oct 12, 2012 10:05 pm
I took your basic write-ups and ran with them to create full epilogues (SPOILERS!):
The Yellow Sign - Epilogues
1A Keeper Wins: The ritual for which the play was but a veneer has been fulfilled -- the Gleeman/Pale Priest has been sacrificed to the greater glory of the being the cultists refer to as The Yellow King, and their last breath heralds in the new age of his rule of madness and death. Like ripples on the still water of a swamp, some invasive, contagious affliction of the psyche spreads from those already exposed to inhumanly beautiful and terrible play – first throughout the district, and then throughout multiple districts, leaving thousands dead in its wake, the local society on the verge of collapse, and a Federally mandated cordone sanitaire in effect around the city, to prevent the plague of mental illness from spreading yet further.
1A Investigators Win: Try as you might to find a way to destroy the script, you work in a frenzy to unlock its secret in the front yard -- until you discover that the real secret lies within your own now-distorted perceptions. You realize suddenly that all along you have been feebly, ineffectually toying with the pages of the script, while imagining you were shredding it, burning it, soaking it to a pulp, burying it … but now, at least for a moment, you have mastered yourself and your faculties are clear. Calmly, you tear the beautiful and awful work of prose to bits, methodically burn them, and then scatter the ashes – breaking its hold on you and your companions, and just maybe saving the planet from a terrifying and bizarre reign of madness and death.
1B Keeper Wins:
King’s Champion kills investigator: You look down at the blood on your hands. What have you done? … exactly what you should have done. The heretic has been vanquished in the name of your lord. You look at your fellow cultists, and hear yourself intone, “The scalloped tatters of the King in Yellow must hide Yhill forever”. Once the remaining interlopers in the King’s Court are vanquished, you don a silk robe embroidered with The Yellow Sign. The city, the State, the whole land, will one day rise and tremble before the Pallid Mask.
2 investigators go insane: The ineffable play has utterly corrupted your former compatriots, and you flee for the Entryway, pursued by them and the mob of lunatic cultists, the lot raggedly shouting out cryptic catchphrases such as “Live to die for the Tattered One!”, and “Have you seen the Yellow Sign?” You turn the corner … and screech to a halt when you find the exit blocked by more ravening madmen. In seconds you are dragged down by a swarm of thrashing bodies, and then the knives come.
1B Investigators Win: As you destroy the last of the evil relics, you feel a sense of release. The play – whoever or whatever the author, surely nothing of more ineffable beauty and corrosive terror has ever been committed to paper -- has lost its grip over you, and you have at least momentarily thwarted its bloody ritual. Ignoring the lunatic shouting ringing in the halls behind you, you all run like Hell for your car and make your getaway. Next stop on the line: Arkam Police Station.
1C Keeper Wins: The possessed Julian sprints out the front door with his script of ineffable beauty, terror, and madness; by the time you reach the front yard he has already disappeared. The hours of search are fruitless, but a few months later, you are alarmed to see that The Court of Carcosa is beginning performances in a number of theatres across the country. In the following weeks your worst fears are realized and surpassed, as literally every city the play has debuted in descends into an orgy of madness and violence – a madness that threatens to spread across the country like a cancer. The military is called out, and the years of terror which follow bring martial law, the complete dissolution of society in some of the worst afflicted areas, and the institution of euthanasia centers in multiple cities, to provide a humane way to dispose of the hordes of criminally insane – with or without their compliance, or due process.
1C Investigators Win: The lunatic, possessed husk known as Julian Glen lies thrashing on the front walk before you, raging uncontrollably even as his life bleeds away. Suddenly he ceases moving, and his spittle-flecked lips shriek out: “Ah, I see it now! You have seized the throne and the empire. Woe! Woe to you who are crowned with the crown of the King in Yellow!” With that, his eyeballs roll clean around in his head and he dies. You remove the last few pages of Julian’s demented script from his corpse and carefully burn them; they may well represent the penultimate attainment of human prose, but not a single scrap must escape to wreak further havoc. The Court of Carcosa will never see the light of day again.
1C Investigators Win alternate version: The lunatic, possessed husk known as Julian Glen lies thrashing on the front walk before you, raging uncontrollably even as his life bleeds away. Suddenly he becomes still, and his spittle-flecked lips murmur: “Let the Red Dawn surmise / What we shall do / When this blue starlight fails / And all is through.” With that, his eyeballs roll clean around in his head and he dies. You remove the last few pages of Julian’s demented script from his corpse; they may well represent the penultimate attainment of human prose, but like Julian himself, the play The Court of Carcosa must not survive to see another dawn …you spend the next hour methodically shredding it, burning it, and scattering the ashes.
- Last edited Sun Oct 20, 2013 3:09 am (Total Number of Edits: 1)
- Posted Sat Oct 19, 2013 4:08 am