The Mutant class in The Rad Hack is pretty flexible — you can easily be a mutant animal, plant, or some other strange humanoid. Still, I’ve had friends, followers, and even my spouse talk about how they wished the “Mutant Plant” was a class on its own. I decided to homebrew my own variant Plant class by re-skinning powers that already existed in the game. Enjoy!
This is a play report for Gutterpunk Sprawl-Crawl, a play-by-post campaign using The Rad Hack. This setting entails violence, drug use, and depraved morals — consider this your NSFW warning.
When we left off last session, Leper Prawn and Absolvo had made it out alive from the radioactive sewers and have emerged about a block away from Zom Zom’s, a notorious restaurant that is a hub for all sorts of mutants, nomads, and biker gangs.
You can watch the humans try to run… Continue reading GUTTERPUNK SESSION 2: “Come to Zom Zom’s — a Place to Eat!”
Warning: Harsh NSFW Language Ahead
I recently began work on an obscene sandbox that primarily uses The Rad Hack but also borrows from other titles like Cyber Hacked, Augmented Reality, Vornheim, Other Dust and any thematically appropriate stuff I find in the OSR community.
I’ve actually begun running it as a Play-by-Post via a private Facebook Group. This format actually works well because it means I can troll Google Images for inspirational artwork to every scene and character, and we also keep an “Out of Character” chat open in messenger for “table talk” moments.
This is a pretty messed up game. It takes inspiration from Judge Dredd, Borderlands, Transmetropolitan, Freejack, Repo Man, and a bunch of other trashy sci-fi titles.
This post is some raw ideas transcribed from some very loose notes from a one-shot adventure I put together for Swords & Wizardry. I present them here as a loose framework for anyone to use however they wish in their own games.
The immediate area surrounding the town of Silverbrooke has long been protected by the “witch” of the Citrine Tower. Though human, she’s been around as long as a lot of elves can remember. Her tower pulses with a fresh, yellowish glow that casts a serene light by nightfall (and is even noticeable by day.) She only leaves her estate two days a month to acquire goods from the local markets. It’s unknown where her wealth comes from — many speculate she’s a master alchemist, but her coins always have the imperial stamps of the time.
In the past year, however, her absence has been felt across the whole of the countryside. The fresh yellow of her Citrine tower is now a shade akin to a gingivitis grin. The crops around Silverbrooke have been suffering from a blight, and vines of thorns tendril out of the woods as if to suffocate the farmlands.