You have begun to piece together the secret rules of the real world, rather than the ignorant scrim of physics and religion. You recognize the great names, and the truths they conceal ...
Let's play with the Mythos.
Imagine that you could see and understand things that nobody else could. That you knew the secrets of the stars, or why Mondays are always brown - and what it means for Mondays to be brown. What does that mean for you, and your understanding of the world around you?
A character can have Mythos at the beginning of the game, if the Keeper is so inclined. Or they can gain it in play, through reading occult texts or encountering the otherworldly. What does that mean for the one who has it? They can see the truth behind the veil, fine, but what does that mean on a day-to-day basis?
That will depend, to a degree, on the source of their knowledge. Let's say for the sake of discussion that the character - we'll name them Sarah for the purpose of this example - got their Mythos at character creation. Sarah's Drive, Artistic Sensibility, led them to a forgotten little art gallery in the outskirts of Manhattan where they encountered a painting that opened their mind to the infinite. Sarah has become obsessed with this artist and seeks out more of their work, partly for the knowledge it contains and partly because they have a peculiar fascination with the art itself. Sarah has 1 point Cthulhu Mythos, and a new appreciation of the world around her. That's all a result of discussion at the start of the game; the Keeper might suggest using Sarah's Drive to justify the Mythos point, but Sarah's player came up with the art gallery on her own.
That's how Sarah got that point. However, it doesn't stop with one painting. Sarah now sees the world in a completely new way. What does that feel like, in play?
For starters, it means that Sarah sees everything around her in the light of this new knowledge. Other artists either take these ideas on board and incorporate it into their art - in which case Sarah appreciates their efforts - or they don't. Other art seems bland and stale. Things she appreciated before this happened are now derivative, flat, lifeless.
Sarah may find herself drawn to the forgotten corners of the art world. That's where she encountered her new muse, after all. She might find more works by that artist, or different works by different artists that draw on the same principles. This portrait is clearly the work of someone who knows, and Sarah can tell by the composition, the imagery, the geometric alignment of the work. Or perhaps the artist has stumbled on the idea by accident.
That's Sarah on a good day.
If, on the other hand, Sarah has had a shock - an encounter with the infinite that cost her Stability or worse yet Sanity - then she might start interpreting everything in terms of art. The sky is exactly that shade depicted in the art; what does this mean? The clouds, the stars, the world around her takes on new meaning. Is that a door, or a painting of a door? Did she encounter a face like that in a dusty room in Montmartre? Are these shadows just like those encountered in oils that fateful day? That person's eyes - are they like those she saw in that painting?
Much the same might happen if Sarah's Mythos was gained through book learning. The effect is determined by the source, but the result is the same. That bit of doggerel first encountered in a note in the margins of Azathoth and Others takes on new, horrible meaning in the light of those peculiar stains on the floor - not blood, yet eerily like blood. The fact that the doorman was born in Cancer Ascendant takes on new meaning when you consider what Derby is supposed to have written about the same astrological symbols.
If Sarah has had a shock, then the words she once read in an inconspicuous little pamphlet of poetry echo in her head nightmarishly. Again and again the words beat on the inside of her skull like a kettle drum, and the fact that the doorman has sky blue eyes is darkly significant when you consider how blue is used in Derby's work.
Let's say Sarah got her Mythos through a personal encounter with something squamous. What then?
That would depend on what the source actually was. Let's say it was through an encounter either with Nyarlathotep or, more likely, forces aligned with Nyarlathotep. At that point much depends on which version of Nyarlathotep you're using. Trail has several options, among them:
“Nyarlathotep” is not a being, a separate Messenger of the Gods, but a technique, specifically telepathy, used by the Great Old Ones. The “thousand forms” of Nyarlathotep are merely the natural result of telepathic impressions on thousands or millions of brains, human and inhuman.
Thousands upon thousands of psychic messages floating on the ether. Sarah's thoughts are not her own any more. At any moment an idea might pop into her head, and was it her idea, or a fragment of Nyarlathotep that penetrated her skull? That peculiar radio frequency; dead air, or something awful? The rhyme those children are chanting, does it have another meaning?
These are things that Sarah encounters every day and she encounters these things because her fundamental understanding of the world has changed irrevocably. No longer can she pretend that 2 plus 2 equals 4, not when she knows the truth. In many ways she's like the folks who gibber about chemtrails and see mysterious threats in airy nothing. Sarah knows what we do not: that there is a Mythos behind it all.
How does this manifest in play?
For starters, the Keeper can ask Sarah's player to define certain aspects of the Mythos herself, in much the same way that Swords of the Serpentine players describe aspects of Eversink. This is fundamentally a part of how her character sees the world; it stands to reason that Sarah should be able to describe it herself, in her own words.
"What does your understanding of the way the world works tell you about why those ravens have gathered the way they have on the courthouse roof?" "... about your knowledge of human behavior, and why those people on the edge of the train platform defy accepted norms?" "... about this particular shade of blue?"
For another thing, the Keeper can use this to create scenes and encounters which can be used to distribute clues the players might have already missed in previous scenes. It's the Mythos providing a hint as to the true nature of the situation, when the players have wandered past the clue trail. This can be very helpful in those moments when the players seem lost and the Keeper can't think of another justification for directing them back to the plot.
Also, it can be used to reinforce the mood. Nothing says Cthulhu like the sudden realization those sinister words on the quiet pages of a book have hideous meaning when you combine that knowledge with the understanding that this particular arrangement of stars has great significance to those who worship the chaos. Or that this style of architecture reflects lessons learned from the buildings found in the damned city of Irem.
The key point is the Mythos ability shouldn't be used as a passive clue finder. It's more akin to knowing a secret. If you know that medieval architects planned their cities around concepts found in forbidden lore then the fact that this particular collection of streets and alleys is designed in such-and-such a way tells you that the real heart of the city, its intended heart anyway, is over here, and within it lies something terrible ... You know this. But the tourists who wander the streets of this quaint little town each day, all blind to its hideous reality, wander unheeding into the maw of something that must not be named. Does this explain why ...
Thus the adventure begins.
That's it for this week!
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