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View All Video Copilot Products. View All Latest Tools. View All Sale Items. Share This Post. Watch Day 2 Here! New: Mt. Mograph Motion 4 August 10, Mt. Update: U-Render New: mamoworld Automation Blocks for After Effects is Now Available August 10, mamoworld Automation Blocks is an infinite collection of premade, one-click tools for any task. Email Address. Login Forgot password Create Account. Old Zebulon Whateley, of a branch that hovered about half way between soundness and decadence, made darkly wild suggestions about rites that ought to be practiced on the hill-tops.

He came of a line where tradition ran strong, and his memories of chantings in the great stone circles were not altogether connected with Wilbur and his grandfather.

Darkness fell upon a stricken countryside too passive to organise for real defence. In a few cases closely related families would band together and watch in the gloom under one roof; but in general there was only a repetition of the barricading of the night before, and a futile, ineffective gesture of loading muskets and setting pitchforks handily about.

Nothing, however, occurred except some hill noises; and when the day came there were many who hoped that the new horror had gone as swiftly as it had come. There were even bold souls who proposed an offensive expedition down in the glen, though they did not venture to set an actual example to the still reluctant majority. When night came again the barricading was repeated, though there was less huddling together of families. In the morning both the Frye and the Seth Bishop households reported excitement among the dogs and vague sounds and stenches from afar, while early explorers noted with horror a fresh set of the monstrous tracks in the road skirting Sentinel Hill.

As before, the sides of the road shewed a bruising indicative of the blasphemously stupendous bulk of the horror; whilst the conformation of the tracks seemed to argue a passage in two directions, as if the moving mountain had come from Cold Spring Glen and returned to it along the same path. At the base of the hill a thirty-foot swath of crushed shrubbery saplings led steeply upward, and the seekers gasped when they saw that even the most perpendicular places did not deflect the inexorable trail.

It was here that the Whateleys used to build their hellish fires and chant their hellish rituals by the table-like stone on May-Eve and Hallowmass. Now that very stone formed the centre of a vast space thrashed around by the mountainous horror, whilst upon its slightly concave surface was a thick and foetid deposit of the same tarry stickiness observed on the floor of the ruined Whateley farmhouse when the horror escaped.

Men looked at one another and muttered. Then they looked down the hill. Apparently the horror had descended by a route much the same as that of its ascent. To speculate was futile.

Reason, logic, and normal ideas of motivation stood confounded. Only old Zebulon, who was not with the group, could have done justice to the situation or suggested a plausible explanation.

Thursday night began much like the others, but it ended less happily. The whippoorwills in the glen had screamed with such unusual persistence that many could not sleep, and about 3 a. There was nothing more. No one dared do anything, and no one knew till morning whence the call came. Then those who had heard 31 investigator handbook it called everyone on the line, and found that only the Fryes did not reply.

The truth appeared an hour later, when a hastily assembled group of armed men trudged out to the Frye place at the head of the glen. It was horrible, yet hardly a surprise. There were more swaths and monstrous prints, but there was no longer any house.

It had caved in like an egg-shell, and amongst the ruins nothing living or dead could be discovered. Only a stench and a tarry stickiness. The Elmer Fryes had been erased from Dunwich.

In the meantime a quieter yet even more spiritually poignant phase of the horror had been blackly unwinding itself behind the closed door of a shelf-lined room in Arkham. The curious manuscript record or diary of Wilbur Whateley, delivered to Miskatonic University for translation, had caused much worry and bafflement among the experts in languages both ancient and modern; its very alphabet, notwithstanding a general resemblance to the heavily shaded Arabic used in Mesopotamia, being absolutely unknown to any available authority.

The final conclusion of the linguists was that the text represented an artificial alphabet, giving the effect of a cipher; though none of the usual methods of cryptographic solution seemed to furnish any clue, even when applied on the basis of every tongue the writer might conceivably have used. One of them, a heavy tome with an iron clasp, was in another unknown alphabet—this one of a very different cast, and resembling Sanscrit more than anything else.

The old ledger was at length given wholly into the charge of Dr. Armitage, both because of his peculiar interest in the Whateley matter, and because of his wide linguistic learning and skill in the mystical formulae of antiquity and the Middle Ages.

That question, however, he did not deem vital; since it would be unnecessary to know the origin of the symbols if, as he suspected, they were used as a cipher in a modern language. It was his belief that, considering the great amount of text involved, the writer would scarcely have wished the trouble of using another speech than his own, save perhaps in certain special formulae and incantations.

Accordingly he attacked the manuscript with the preliminary assumption that the bulk of it was in English. Armitage knew, from the repeated failures of his colleagues, that the riddle was a deep and complex one; and that no simple mode of solution could merit even a trial. He interspersed his study of the books with attacks on the manuscript itself, and in time became convinced that he had to deal with one of those subtlest and most ingenious of cryptograms, in which many separate lists of corresponding letters are arranged like the multiplication table, and the message built up with arbitrary key-words known only to the initiated.

The older authorities seemed rather more helpful than the newer ones, and Armitage concluded that the code of the manuscript was one of great antiquity, no doubt handed down through a long line of mystical experimenters.

Several times he seemed near daylight, only to be set back by some unforeseen obstacle. Then, as September approached, the clouds began to clear. Certain letters, as used in certain parts of the manuscript, emerged definitely and unmistakably; and it became obvious that the text was indeed in English. On the evening of September 2nd the last major barrier gave way, and Dr. It was in truth a diary, as all had thought; and it was couched in a style clearly shewing the mixed occult erudition and general illiteracy of the strange being who wrote it.

Almost the first long passage that Armitage deciphered, an entry dated November 26, , proved highly startling and disquieting. It was written, he remembered, by a child of three and a half who looked like a lad of twelve or thirteen.

That upstairs more ahead of me than I had thought it would be, and is not like to have much earth brain. Grandfather kept me saying the Dho formula last night, and I think I chapter 2: the dunwich horror saw the inner city at the 2 magnetic poles. They from the air told me at Sabbat that it will be years before I can clear off the earth, and I guess grandfather will be dead then, so I shall have to learn all the angles of the planes and all the formulas between the Yr and the Nhhngr.

They from outside will help, but they cannot take body without human blood. That upstairs looks it will have the right cast. I can see it a little when I make the Voorish sign or blow the powder of Ibn Ghazi at it, and it is near like them at May-Eve on the Hill. The other face may wear off some.

I wonder how I shall look when the earth is cleared and there are no earth beings on it. He that came with the Aklo Sabaoth said I may be transfigured, there being much of outside to work on. Armitage in a cold sweat of terror and a frenzy of wakeful concentration. He had not left the manuscript all night, but sat at his table under the electric light turning page after page with shaking hands as fast as he could decipher the cryptic text.

He had nervously telephoned his wife he would not be home, and when she brought him a breakfast from the house he could scarcely dispose of a mouthful. All that day he read on, now and then halted maddeningly as a reapplication of the complex key became necessary.

Lunch and dinner were brought him, but he ate only the smallest fraction of either. On the morning of September 4th Professor Rice and Dr. Morgan insisted on seeing him for a while, and departed trembling and ashen-grey. That evening he went to bed, but slept only fitfully. Wednesday—the next day—he was back at the manuscript, and began to take copious notes both from the current sections and from those he had already deciphered.

In the small hours of that night he slept a little in an easy-chair in his office, but was at the manuscript again before dawn. Some time before noon his physician, Dr. Hartwell, called to see him and insisted that he cease work. He refused; intimating that it was of the most vital importance for him to complete the reading of the diary, and promising an explanation in due course of time.

That evening, just as twilight fell, he finished his terrible perusal and sank back exhausted. His wife, bringing his dinner, found him in a half-comatose state; but he was conscious enough to warn her off with a sharp cry when he saw her eyes wander toward the notes he had taken.

Weakly rising, he gathered up the scribbled papers and sealed them all in a great envelope, which he immediately placed in his inside coat pocket. He had sufficient strength to get home, but was so clearly in need of medical aid that Dr.

Hartwell was summoned at once. Armitage slept, but was partly delirious the next day. He made no explanations to Hartwell, but in his calmer moments spoke of the imperative need of a long conference with Rice and Morgan. His wilder wanderings were very startling indeed, including frantic appeals that something in a boarded-up farmhouse be destroyed, and fantastic references to some plan for the extirpation of the entire human race and all animal and vegetable life from the earth by some terrible elder race of beings from another dimension.

He would shout that the world was in danger, since the Elder Things wished to strip it and drag it away from the solar system and cosmos of matter into some other plane or phase of entity from which it had once fallen, vigintillions of aeons ago.

At other times he would call for the dreaded Necronomicon and the Daemonolatreia of Remigius, in which he seemed hopeful of finding some formula to check the peril he conjured up. He woke late Friday, clear of head, though sober with a gnawing fear and tremendous sense of responsibility. Saturday afternoon he felt able to go over to the library and summon Rice and Morgan for a conference, and the rest of that day and evening the three men tortured their brains in the wildest speculation and the most desperate debate.

Strange and terrible books were drawn voluminously from the stack shelves and from secure places of storage; and diagrams and formulae were copied with feverish haste and in bewildering abundance. Of scepticism there was none. Opinions were divided as to notifying the Massachusetts State Police, and the negative finally won. There were things involved which simply could not be believed by those who had not seen a sample, as indeed was made clear during certain subsequent investigations.

Late at night the conference disbanded without having developed a definite plan, but all day Sunday Armitage was busy comparing formulae and mixing chemicals obtained from the college laboratory. The more he reflected on the hellish diary, the more he was inclined to doubt the efficacy of any material agent in stamping out the entity which Wilbur Whateley had left behind him—the earth-threatening entity which, unknown to him, was to burst forth in a few hours and become the memorable Dunwich horror.

Monday was a repetition of Sunday with Dr. Armitage, for the task in hand required an infinity of research and experiment. Further consultations of the monstrous diary brought about various changes of plan, and he knew that even in the end a large amount of uncertainty must remain.

Then, on Wednesday, the great shock came. Tucked obscurely away in a corner of the Arkham Advertiser was a facetious little item from the Associated Press, telling what a record-breaking monster the bootleg whiskey of Dunwich had raised up.

Armitage, half stunned, could only telephone for Rice and Morgan. Far into the night they discussed, and the next day was a whirlwind of preparation on the part of them all. Armitage knew he would be meddling with terrible powers, yet saw that there was no other way to annul the deeper and more malign meddling which others had done before him. The day was pleasant, but even in the brightest sunlight a kind of quiet dread and portent seemed to hover about the strangely domed hills and the deep, shadowy ravines of the stricken region.

Now and then on some mountain-top a gaunt circle of stones could be glimpsed against the sky. Throughout that afternoon they rode around Dunwich; questioning the natives concerning all that had occurred, and seeing for themselves with rising pangs of horror the drear Frye ruins with their lingering traces of the tarry stickiness, the blasphemous tracks in the Frye yard, the wounded Seth Bishop cattle, and the enormous swaths of disturbed vegetation in various places.

The trail up and down Sentinel Hill seemed to Armitage of almost cataclysmic significance, and he looked long at the sinister altar-like stone on the summit. At length the visitors, apprised of a party of State Police which had come from Aylesbury that morning in response to the first telephone reports of the Frye tragedy, decided to seek out the officers and compare notes as far as practicable.

This, however, they found more easily planned than performed; since no sign of the party could be found in any direction. There had been five of them in a car, but now the car stood empty near the ruins in the Frye yard.

The natives, all of whom had talked with the policemen, seemed at first as perplexed as Armitage and his companions. Then old Sam Hutchins thought of something and turned pale, nudging Fred Farr and pointing to the dank, deep hollow that yawned close by.

Armitage, now that he had actually come upon the horror and its monstrous work, trembled with the responsibility he felt to be his. Night would soon fall, and it was then that the mountainous blasphemy lumbered upon its eldritch course. Negotium perambulans in tenebris. The old librarian rehearsed the formulae he had memorised, and clutched the paper containing the alternative one he had not memorised.

He saw that his electric flashlight was in working order. Armitage, having read the hideous diary, knew painfully well what kind of a manifestation to expect; but he did not add to the fright of the Dunwich people by giving any hints or clues. He hoped that it might be conquered without any revelation to the world of the monstrous thing it had escaped. As the shadows gathered, the natives commenced to disperse homeward, anxious to bar themselves indoors despite the present evidence that all human locks and bolts were useless before a force that could bend trees and crush houses when it chose.

There were rumblings under the hills that night, and the whippoorwills piped threateningly. Once in a while a wind, sweeping up out of Cold Spring Glen, would bring a touch of ineffable foetor to the heavy night air; such a foetor as all three of the watchers had smelled once before, when they stood above a dying thing that had passed for fifteen years and a half as a human being.

But the looked-for terror did not appear. Whatever was down there in the glen was biding its time, and Armitage told his colleagues it would be suicidal to try to attack it in the dark. Morning came wanly, and the night-sounds ceased.

It was a grey, bleak day, with now and then a drizzle of rain; and heavier and heavier clouds seemed to be piling themselves up beyond the hills to the northwest. The men from Arkham were undecided what to do. Seeking shelter from the increasing rainfall beneath one of the few undestroyed Frye outbuildings, chapter 2: the dunwich horror they debated the wisdom of waiting, or of taking the aggressive and going down into the glen in quest of their nameless, monstrous quarry.

The downpour waxed in heaviness, and distant peals of thunder sounded from far horizons. Sheet lightning shimmered, and then a forky bolt flashed near at hand, as if descending into the accursed glen itself. The sky grew very dark, and the watchers hoped that the storm would prove a short, sharp one followed by clear weather.

It was still gruesomely dark when, not much over an hour later, a confused babel of voices sounded down the road. Another moment brought to view a frightened group of more than a dozen men, running, shouting, and even whimpering hysterically.

Someone in the lead began sobbing out words, and the Arkham men started violently when those words developed a coherent form. Jest still-like. You men know that those Whateleys were wizards—well, this thing is a thing of wizardry, and must be put down by the same means. How about it? The sky was growing lighter, and there were signs that the storm had worn itself away. When Armitage inadvertently took a wrong direction, Joe Osborn warned him and walked ahead to shew the right one.

Courage and confidence were mounting; though the twilight of the almost perpendicular wooded hill which lay toward the end of their short cut, and among whose fantastic ancient trees they had to scramble as if up a ladder, put these qualities to a severe test. At length they emerged on a muddy road to find the sun coming out. They were a little beyond the Seth Bishop place, but bent trees and hideously unmistakable tracks shewed what had passed by.

Only a few moments were consumed in surveying the ruins just around the bend. It was the Frye incident all over again, and nothing dead or living was found in either of the collapsed shells which had been the Bishop house and barn. No one cared to remain there amidst the stench and tarry stickiness, but all turned instinctively to the line of horrible prints leading on toward the wrecked Whateley farmhouse and the altar-crowned slopes of Sentinel Hill.

It was no joke tracking down something as big as a house that one could not see, but that had all the vicious malevolence of a daemon. Armitage produced a pocket telescope of considerable power and scanned the steep green side of the hill. Then he handed the instrument to Morgan, whose sight was keener. After a moment of gazing Morgan cried out sharply, passing the glass to Earl Sawyer and indicating a certain spot on the slope with his finger.

It was one thing to chase the nameless entity, but quite another to find it. Voices began questioning Armitage about what he knew of the thing, and no reply seemed quite to satisfy. Everyone seemed to feel himself in close proximity to phases of Nature and of being utterly forbidden, and wholly outside the sane experience of mankind. In the end the three men from Arkham—old, white-bearded Dr. Armitage, stocky, iron-grey Professor Rice, and lean, youngish Dr. Morgan—ascended the mountain alone.

After much patient instruction regarding its focussing and use, they left the telescope with the frightened group that remained in the road; and as they climbed they were watched closely by those among whom the glass was passed around.

It was hard going, and Armitage had to be helped more than once. High above the toiling group the great swath trembled as its hellish maker re-passed with snail-like deliberateness. Then it was obvious that the pursuers were gaining.

Curtis Whateley—of the undecayed branch—was holding the telescope when the Arkham party detoured radically from the swath. He told the crowd that the men were evidently trying to get to a subordinate peak which overlooked the swath at a point considerably ahead of where the shrubbery was now bending. This, indeed, proved to be true; and the party were seen to gain the minor elevation only a short time after the invisible blasphemy h a d passed it. The crowd stirred uneasily, recalling that this sprayer was expected to give the unseen horror a moment of visibility.

Two or three men shut their eyes, but Curtis Whateley snatched back the telescope and strained his vision to the utmost. Curtis, who had held the instrument, dropped it with a piercing shriek into the ankle-deep mud of the road. He reeled, and would have crumpled to the ground had not two or three others seized and steadied him. Curtis was past all coherence, and even isolated replies were almost too much for him.

Fred Farr and Will Hutchins carried him to the roadside and laid him on the damp grass. Henry Wheeler, trembling, turned the rescued telescope on the mountain to see what he might. Through the lenses were discernible three tiny figures, apparently running toward the summit as fast as the steep incline allowed.

Only these—nothing more. Then everyone noticed a strangely unseasonable noise in the deep valley behind, and even in the underbrush of Sentinel Hill itself. It was the piping of unnumbered whippoorwills, and in their shrill chorus there seemed to lurk a note of tense and evil expectancy. Earl Sawyer now took the telescope and reported the three figures as standing on the topmost ridge, virtually level with the altar-stone but at a considerable distance from it.

One figure, he said, seemed to be raising its hands above its head at rhythmic intervals; and as Sawyer mentioned the circumstance the crowd seemed to hear a faint, half-musical sound from the distance, as if a loud chant were accompanying the gestures.

The weird silhouette on that remote peak must have been a spectacle of infinite grotesqueness and impressiveness, but no observer was in a mood for aesthetic appreciation. The whippoorwills were piping wildly, and in a singularly curious irregular rhythm quite unlike that of the visible ritual.

Suddenly the sunshine seemed to lessen without the intervention of any discernible cloud. It was a very peculiar phenomenon, and was plainly marked by all. A rumbling sound seemed brewing beneath the hills, mixed strangely with a concordant rumbling which clearly came from the sky. Lightning flashed aloft, and the wondering crowd looked in vain for the portents of storm.

The chanting of the men from Arkham now became unmistakable, and Wheeler saw through the glass that they were all raising their arms in the rhythmic incantation. From some farmhouse far away came the frantic barking of dogs. The change in the quality of the daylight increased, and the crowd gazed about the horizon in wonder. Then the lightning flashed again, somewhat brighter than before, and the crowd fancied that it had shewed a certain mistiness around the altar-stone on the distant height.

No one, however, had been using the telescope at that instant. The whippoorwills continued their irregular pulsation, and the men of Dunwich braced themselves tensely against some imponderable menace with which the atmosphere seemed surcharged. Without warning came those deep, cracked, raucous vocal sounds which will never leave the memory of the stricken group who heard them.

Not from any human throat were they born, for the organs of man can yield no such acoustic perversions. Rather would one have said they came from the pit itself, had not their source been so unmistakably the altarstone on the peak. It is almost erroneous to call them sounds at all, since so much of their ghastly, infra-bass timbre spoke to dim seats of consciousness and terror far subtler than the ear; yet one must do so, since their form was indisputably though vaguely that of half-articulate words.

They were loud—loud as the rumblings and the thunder above which they echoed—yet did they come from no visible being. Henry Wheeler strained his eye at the telescope, but saw only the three grotesquely silhouetted human figures on the peak, all moving their arms furiously in strange gestures as their incantation drew near its culmination. From what black wells of Acherontic fear or feeling, from what unplumbed gulfs of extra-cosmic consciousness or obscure, long-latent heredity, were those half-articulate thunder-croakings drawn?

Presently they began to gather renewed force and coherence as they grew in stark, utter, ultimate frenzy. The pallid group in the road, still reeling at the indisputably English syllables that had poured thickly and thunderously down from the frantic vacancy beside that shocking altar-stone, were never to hear such syllables again.

Instead, they jumped violently at the terrific report which seemed to rend the hills; the deafening, cataclysmic peal whose source, be it inner earth or sky, no hearer was ever able to place. A single lightning-bolt shot from the purple zenith to the altar-stone, and a great tidal wave of viewless force and indescribable stench swept down from the hill to all the countryside.

Dogs howled from the distance, green grass and foliage wilted to a curious, sickly yellow-grey, and over field and forest were scattered the bodies of dead whippoorwills. The stench left quickly, but the vegetation never came right again. To this day there is something queer and unholy about the growths on and around that fearsome hill.

Curtis Whateley was only just regaining consciousness when the Arkham men came slowly down the mountain in the beams of a sunlight once more brilliant and untainted. They were grave and quiet, and seemed shaken by memories and reflections even more terrible than those which had reduced the group of natives to a state of cowed quivering.

In reply to a jumble of questions they only shook their heads and reaffirmed one vital fact. It was an impossibility in a normal world. Only the least fraction was really matter in any sense we know. It was like its father—and most of it has gone back to him in some vague realm or dimension outside our material universe; some vague abyss out of which only the most accursed rites of human blasphemy could ever have called him for a moment on the hills.

Memory seemed to pick itself up where it had left off, and the horror of the sight that had prostrated him burst in upon him again. Only old Zebulon Whateley, who wanderingly remembered ancient things but who had been silent heretofore, spoke aloud. We have no business calling in such things from outside, and only very wicked people and very wicked cults ever try to.

There was some of it in Wilbur Whateley himself—enough to make a devil and a precocious monster of him, and to make his passing out a pretty terrible sight. Things like that brought down the beings those Whateleys were so fond of—the beings they were going to let in tangibly to wipe out the human race and drag the earth off to some nameless place for some nameless purpose.

It grew fast and big from the same reason that Wilbur grew fast and big—but it beat him because it had a greater share of the outsideness in it.

It was his twin brother, but it looked more like the father than he did. Working as a team, investigators can come from disparate backgrounds and be of varied occupations—each bringing certain expertise to the group. Together, joined in comradeship and common purpose, you will stand steadfast against the coming darkness. This chapter provides the rules for creating investigator player characters.

A two-page spread that provides a handy summary for quick reference can be found on pages Before you begin rolling dice you should talk to the Keeper and ask for guidance on creating a suitable investigator for the scenario that you are going to play. The Keeper may stipulate strict guidelines, such as which professions you can chose from, or may leave it completely open to you. The location or country in which the game is set.

Does the Keeper recommend any occupations? Suggestions for how the investigators might know each other. The Keeper may tell you a great deal or very little about the scenario. Listen to what is said and ask any questions you may have. Once you have an idea for an investigator, run it past your Keeper for approval. This conversation can serve to stimulate imagination and create links between the investigators, helping to create a suitable mix of player characters. If the Keeper says the investigators are going to be hired for an investigation, think about making an investigator who needs the money.

When beginning a game of Call of Cthulhu, it is recommended that all the players “roll-up” their investigators together in the company of the person who will be taking on the role of Keeper— this ensures that everyone helps to form the group, with each investigator taking an agreed role, ensuring that a balance of skills and occupations is found.

If the premise asks that your investigator be part of an academic team attending a conference, perhaps your character could be one of the speakers. Giving your investigator more relevance to the story and making the “hook” stronger will make the game better.

Any connections that you create between your investigator and the plot are likely to hold greater emotional resonance for you than anything the Keeper supplies. If the Keeper is unable to give much of a premise you can still create some interesting facets to your investigator without knowing how they will come into play. The Keeper may pick up on some of these facets and incorporate them into the scenario.

Creating Your Investigator There is more than one approach to creating an investigator. Some people prefer to have an idea about the type of investigator they wish to create before rolling any dice, while others prefer to let the dice rolls guide their choices. What follows are the standard rules for creating investigators, with further options at the end of this chapter.

In the game each characteristic represents an aspect of an investigator—intelligence, dexterity, and so on. These identified quantities determine the relative capability of investigators and suggest ways for them to act and react during play.

Characteristic values are generated randomly by rolling two or more six-sided dice. Rolling Characteristics Initially, write your results on a piece of scrap paper before writing them onto the investigator sheet as they may be modified by the age of your investigator. Enhancing Your Character’s Background The Keeper has presented an initial premise for the game, which involves an expedition team from the Miskatonic University traveling into the wilds in search of a missing colleague.

Amy asks if her investigator might work in the same department as the missing person. The Keeper agrees. Strength measures the muscle power of an investigator. The higher it is, the more the investigator can lift or tightly cling to something. This characteristic determines the damage an investigator inflicts in hand-to-hand combat.

Reduced to STR 0, an investigator is an invalid, unable to get out of bed. Constitution represents health, vigor, and vitality. Investigators with a high constitution often have more hit points—the better to resist injury and attack.

Serious physical injury or magical attack might lower the statistic, and if Constitution reaches zero the investigator dies. Introducing Harvey Walters To help illustrate the various rules of Call of Cthulhu, we are pleased to introduce you to Harvey Walters, the noted s New York journalist and investigator of the supernatural.

We use Harvey to demonstrate how character creation works. To differentiate between the person playing Harvey and the actual character of Harvey, the investigator in the game, the player is female and her investigator is male. For a walk-through of Harvey’s character creation see page Investigators with higher Dexterity scores are quicker, nimbler, and more physically flexible.

A DEX roll might be made to grab a support to keep from falling, to move faster than an opponent, or to accomplish some delicate task. An investigator with zero DEX is uncoordinated and unable to perform physical tasks. In combat, the character with the highest DEX acts first. Appearance measures both physical attractiveness and personality.

A person with high APP is charming and likeable, but may lack conventional good looks. An investigator with APP of 0 is appallingly ugly or someone with a wholly detestable demeanor, provoking comment and shock everywhere.

APP may be useful in social encounters or when trying to make a good impression. Intelligence represents how well investigators learn, remember, analyze information, and solve complex puzzles.

An investigator with zero INT is a babbling, drooling idiot. Size averages both height and weight into a single number. To see over a wall, to squeeze through a small opening, or even to judge whose head might be sticking up out of the grass, use size. Size helps determine hit points, damage bonus, and build.

Presumably if investigators lose all SIZ points they disappear—goodness knows to where! Often one or two low characteristic scores can help to bring the investigator “to life” and feel more real—as opposed to some incredible superhuman!

Rather than rejecting a low roll, try to incorporate it into the overall makeup of your investigator. Perhaps a low dexterity means that the investigator has suffered some form of leg or hand injury while in the armed forces, or a low education is the result of never attending school and being forced to grow up on the streets.

INT also acts as the value for both Idea rolls and Intelligence rolls. For example, an investigator with high EDU and low INT might be a pedantic teacher or a sideshow performer, someone who knows facts but not their meanings. Those with an EDU greater than 80 have most likely conducted graduate level work and have a degree, as expected of a person who has been to a university of some kind. W ay m page EDU is also used u yo e in practic d back-to-front, ee sp when making Know rolls.

Any adjustments are made to that value. Power indicates force of will: the higher the POW, the higher the aptitude for, and resistance to, magic. An investigator with zero POW is zombie-like and without purpose, as well as being unable to use magic. Unless stated otherwise, POW that is lost during the game is lost permanently. Magic points are equal to one-fifth of POW. The POW of ordinary characters and investigators rarely changes.

However, those adroit in the mysteries of the magic of the Cthulhu Mythos may be able to increase their personal POW. Education is a measure of the formal and factual knowledge possessed by the investigator, as well as indicating the time the investigator has spent in full-time education. EDU measures retained information, not the intelligent application of that information see Intelligence.

An investigator without EDU would be like a newborn baby or an amnesiac—without knowledge of the world, probably very curious and credulous. An EDU of 60 suggests the investigator is a high school graduate, while a score of around 70 indicates a person Luck: Roll 3D6 and Multiply by 5 When creating an investigator roll 3D6 and multiply by 5 for a Luck score.

Luck rolls are often called for by the Keeper when circumstances external to an investigator are in question, and when determining the fickle hand of fate. Age A player can choose any age between 15 and 90 for their investigator.

If you wish to create an investigator outside this age range, it is up to the Keeper to adjudicate. Use the appropriate modifiers for your chosen age only they are not cumulative. Install Element 3D 1.

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