<![CDATA[Homebrew Deviants Forums - [ADVENTURES + COMICS]]]>

<![CDATA[Homebrew Deviants Forums - [ADVENTURES + COMICS]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/ Sat, 16 May 2026 13:00:52 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Please insert query [Brackenspire]]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-980.html Tue, 03 Mar 2026 12:25:19 +0000 Headful_of_Eyeballs]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-980.html -open archives
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(note: you’re supposed to fill out the fields, Ì had to repost this to clear that up)]]> <![CDATA[It's Over, You're safe now]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-970.html Wed, 10 Dec 2025 03:11:34 +0000 Headful_of_Eyeballs]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-970.html You flop onto the cheap motel bed, not even bothering to wipe [HIS] blood off of your hands- You can just take a shower when you wake up anyways.
You open your journal to write down the madness you just experienced, but before you can, you realize you haven't even brushed your hair since you escaped that cellar- On second thought, you should probably take that shower after all.

You slump off the bed, hobble over to the bathroom, and look into the mirror, taking mental note of your features
What species are you?
What's Your gender?
What's the name on your lanyard?
And what mark reminds you of your captivity?]]> You flop onto the cheap motel bed, not even bothering to wipe [HIS] blood off of your hands- You can just take a shower when you wake up anyways.
You open your journal to write down the madness you just experienced, but before you can, you realize you haven't even brushed your hair since you escaped that cellar- On second thought, you should probably take that shower after all.

You slump off the bed, hobble over to the bathroom, and look into the mirror, taking mental note of your features
What species are you?
What's Your gender?
What's the name on your lanyard?
And what mark reminds you of your captivity?]]> <![CDATA[Scrap City: Terror Town]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-966.html Sat, 01 Nov 2025 03:27:14 +0000 King-Clod]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-966.html (Project CWs: Abuse, Child Abuse/Endangerment)

(1/4)

Mutation Log: I’m cataloging our appearances so we can tell if we’ve mutated in case of future bites. Treaty is doing one as well, but I figured it’d be useful to have a second copy.

Chapter: Dopple. 5’4”. Has the voice of a snare drum and the complexion of a golf ball. They have white fur with speckles of black on their back and hands, and their face is littered with acne scars. They have medium ears that come to a point, and an orange trapezoid marking on their stomach. They have short, uneven, black hair. It had grown rather long in the facility, so the first thing they did after we got out was cut it themselves with a piece of shrapnel. Despite its appearance, they take good care of it.

Only mutation so far is two extra fingers on their left hand; they don’t seem to suffer from hunger pangs or paranoia yet. It could just be that they’re very good at hiding it, but they seem to have a pretty laissez-faire outlook despite how bleak everything’s been. I’m not sure if the situation has really hit them yet.

Fence: Ruffneck. Heavily mutated. I haven’t taken exact measurements as per his request. His face shape suggests that he might have been a Devil morph before his encounter with the facility. He’s much larger than Chapter and I, around 2 and a half times their height standing up. He walks on all fours, both to fit in rooms with us and because his arms mutated to be much more muscular than his legs. His left arm is about half the size of his right arm, and his legs are about half the size of his left arm. His right eye looks like two eyes stuck together with an elongated pupil, as if it was conducting mitosis and was interrupted. He has tusks, thick brown fur, spindly spiked metal deposits on his neck, and he doesn’t produce smoke anymore other than a smoky cough whenever he gets heated. The cigs we scavenge for him keep that in check.

Definitely struggles with paranoia. It took months for him to say more than a few words to Chapter and I, and he's generally distrustful of any traders or factions Chapter mentions, or any resources gathered from them.

He also still isn't comfortable around Treaty - freezing and tensing up whenever she enters the common area, not taking his eyes off of her for a second. But I wouldn't chalk that up to paranoia, honestly. He has complete memory loss of his time in and before the facility, but still remembers her. And from how she talks about him, I can't imagine those memories are good.

He probably resents me for letting her in here. I wouldn't blame him if he did.

Treaty: Snapshot morph Amerveille. 5’2”. Light grey fur with purple markings on the snapshot bits, and a red to blue gradient underneath. She doesn’t mark up her fur often - Fence made a comment once that her markings looked like a child drew them and she stopped wearing them around us since. She sometimes marks down important formulas or other information on her arms to save paper, but nothing close to the little stars and moons she wore the first week we settled in here.

She has cat-like eyes, and a voice of a pen against paper. No physical mutations from what I can tell. Paranoia is hard to gauge since she doesn’t really interact with us much in general, save for when she updates her mutation logs or when she works on her gear upgrades with Chapter. I might check in with them later to ask their gauge on her disposition, but they're typically tight-lipped about their conversations.

Pierce (me): Pockitt. Mouse morph. No pocket, that was surgically removed years before this. I have tan fur with white and black markings on my wrists, chest, and tail. I have pink eyes and hair. Mutations are two extra eyes on my shoulders (one on each) and a barbed tail. I currently stand at 4’1” and haven’t been feeling increased hunger, tusk growth, or irritability. I fear I may be growing paranoid about Treaty, though I’m having difficulty telling if that’s because of horror radiation or...other factors.

Pelle: Dopple. My fiance. She isn’t staying with us anymore. Lost all of her hair, but not her fur. Bouts of extreme paranoia, loss of memory. Loss of voice. Animalistic behavior. I'm not sure what she looks like now, and I won’t journal what she used to look like in case she never looks like that again. Whatever she looks like, whatever shape she’s in when we get her back, she’ll be Pelle. And that’s enough.

Elsewhere, something taps on the glass.
"Tell me, little one. Are you a clever monster?"

]]> (Project CWs: Abuse, Child Abuse/Endangerment)

(1/4)

Mutation Log: I’m cataloging our appearances so we can tell if we’ve mutated in case of future bites. Treaty is doing one as well, but I figured it’d be useful to have a second copy.

He probably resents me for letting her in here. I wouldn't blame him if he did.

]]> <![CDATA[battle wars 3 the age of conquest]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-962.html Mon, 22 Sep 2025 04:58:15 +0000 Lucy]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-962.html YEAR ZERO OF THE PERMANENT REVOLUTION

I, THE, great reliable and magnanimous supreme communist idol have finally landed in my promised land to enact my grand utopia upon the earth. Observe!

[Image: my-start.png]

I have established myself as the leader of the local people, they stand in awe at me. They do not understand the eternal science, but I am a patient person. They'll all know in time, by hook or by crook, they'll all know. ]]> YEAR ZERO OF THE PERMANENT REVOLUTION

I, THE, great reliable and magnanimous supreme communist idol have finally landed in my promised land to enact my grand utopia upon the earth. Observe!

[Image: my-start.png]

I have established myself as the leader of the local people, they stand in awe at me. They do not understand the eternal science, but I am a patient person. They'll all know in time, by hook or by crook, they'll all know. ]]> <![CDATA[TCP: BRANCH PLAYTEST]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-941.html Fri, 27 Dec 2024 00:19:08 +0000 Blue_Fox]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-941.html [Image: tcp001.png]

You've turned off the tutorial, but you know the gist of the commands.

GIVE- sharing gifts makes the kitties happy and well! anything can be a gift.
CREATE- the void is pretty but has full of nothing! kitties can't walk or play on nothing.
NAME- naming kitties makes them unique and special! they like two syllables best.
TEACH- kitties have nothing but fluff in their heads! teaching things will make them skilled and strong.
CHECK- checking kitties is a good way to make sure everything's okay! sometimes they have secrets.
SPAWN: if you already have a kitty, you'll need more to keep them company! spawning with words helps you make more, but only if the limit says it's ok.
KILL: sometimes kitties aren't nice to eachother, or go bad along the way. this helps you keep things friendly!]]> <![CDATA[[QUEST] Bits and Baubles for the Banished]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-815.html Fri, 01 Sep 2023 22:30:48 +0000 King-Clod]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-815.html Somewhere, underneath yesterday and inbetween the mortal and the dreaming realms, lies an infinite desert of dust. It smells of old socks and rot. Nothing arrives here naturally.

You arrived here about a year ago, now. You think you’re doing rather well for yourself. You’ve set up shop next to a canyon (one of the many canyons here from which all things arrive from) and have managed to make a living selling goods that you've scavenged from it.

…Technically any of your customers could venture into the canyon themselves, but, as most of what fills the canyon is either dangerous or disgusting, so they leave that to you.

Recently, about a week ago maybe, you took in a colleague. Mostly so you don't have to worry about someone raiding your shop while you're gone, but also for the company - they’re just as weird as you are, so you can talk to them without getting weird looks like the people from the city give you.

Who are you? And who are they? Pick two, leave one.

SNIBBET
CRAFTY, IMPULSIVE

TIMEWINDER
ANCIENT, REVILED

"TYPICAL" "HUMAN "WIZARD"
MAGICALLY INCLINED, UNSTABLE

And, for fun and flavor, what items are left at your shop at the moment? Name three items, cursed, broken, or useless. They haven’t been sold for a reason, after all.

]]> Somewhere, underneath yesterday and inbetween the mortal and the dreaming realms, lies an infinite desert of dust. It smells of old socks and rot. Nothing arrives here naturally.

You arrived here about a year ago, now. You think you’re doing rather well for yourself. You’ve set up shop next to a canyon (one of the many canyons here from which all things arrive from) and have managed to make a living selling goods that you've scavenged from it.

…Technically any of your customers could venture into the canyon themselves, but, as most of what fills the canyon is either dangerous or disgusting, so they leave that to you.

Recently, about a week ago maybe, you took in a colleague. Mostly so you don't have to worry about someone raiding your shop while you're gone, but also for the company - they’re just as weird as you are, so you can talk to them without getting weird looks like the people from the city give you.

Who are you? And who are they? Pick two, leave one.

SNIBBET
CRAFTY, IMPULSIVE

TIMEWINDER
ANCIENT, REVILED

"TYPICAL" "HUMAN "WIZARD"
MAGICALLY INCLINED, UNSTABLE

And, for fun and flavor, what items are left at your shop at the moment? Name three items, cursed, broken, or useless. They haven’t been sold for a reason, after all.

]]> <![CDATA[No Questions Asked]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-747.html Mon, 27 Feb 2023 04:38:35 +0000 victorianflorist]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-747.html
Around you are three walls, one ahead, in front of which lies the gargoyle-like in form, but not function, statue. While two to your flanks. Glancing behind you, you see your beat-up station wagon sitting in the parking lot of your local 24-hr diner, a place that you had never visited before but your aunt claimed was where she had worked in high school. Such statements often intertwined with the implication that one of your many cousins was conceived there, though your family's faux politeness at their functions forbid the mention of such things at such events.

You take a deep breath, the air is cold, brutally cold. The snot takes to running from your nose instantly, you pull it back with a loud, disgusting snort. Despite the discomfort, you note how clean the air smells, devoid of the heat, smoke, and grease you'd expect so close to the diner, of which you can faintly see the flickering sign behind your vehicle. The air smells only of frozen earth and cold stone, a scent evocative of a cavern you experienced in your youth, a misguided attempt by your mother to entertain you on a visitation she fought so hard to retain and yet did so little with. You hold the memory for a moment, in the way that our minds do before it sinks back into the depths of your mind, like a snapping turtle retreating into the murk. You still know it's there, sharp and volatile, primed to snap.

You hear only the distant buzz of the neon sign far behind you, likely echoing off the barriers to your sides. Its steady hum fades quickly, the waning escape of a mosquito late in a summer evening before you can't hear it anymore.

You glance behind again and the sign is gone, as is your tan station wagon with the rusted rims. In the place of your path lies a new wall, as stoic as the others.

So it is you, the bowl, and the walls.]]>
Around you are three walls, one ahead, in front of which lies the gargoyle-like in form, but not function, statue. While two to your flanks. Glancing behind you, you see your beat-up station wagon sitting in the parking lot of your local 24-hr diner, a place that you had never visited before but your aunt claimed was where she had worked in high school. Such statements often intertwined with the implication that one of your many cousins was conceived there, though your family's faux politeness at their functions forbid the mention of such things at such events.

You take a deep breath, the air is cold, brutally cold. The snot takes to running from your nose instantly, you pull it back with a loud, disgusting snort. Despite the discomfort, you note how clean the air smells, devoid of the heat, smoke, and grease you'd expect so close to the diner, of which you can faintly see the flickering sign behind your vehicle. The air smells only of frozen earth and cold stone, a scent evocative of a cavern you experienced in your youth, a misguided attempt by your mother to entertain you on a visitation she fought so hard to retain and yet did so little with. You hold the memory for a moment, in the way that our minds do before it sinks back into the depths of your mind, like a snapping turtle retreating into the murk. You still know it's there, sharp and volatile, primed to snap.

You hear only the distant buzz of the neon sign far behind you, likely echoing off the barriers to your sides. Its steady hum fades quickly, the waning escape of a mosquito late in a summer evening before you can't hear it anymore.

You glance behind again and the sign is gone, as is your tan station wagon with the rusted rims. In the place of your path lies a new wall, as stoic as the others.

So it is you, the bowl, and the walls.]]> <![CDATA[[QUEST] 3?GP - Maelstrom Talk Radio]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-640.html Sun, 10 Jul 2022 00:45:22 +0000 Ignispark]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-640.html

Show Content

Sounds play: a chainsaw revving, an alarm klaxon blaring twice, a spooky synth warbles. The lights turn on in a small geometric neon mix of a radio station and a control center. A green signal turns on overhead, to say that the broadcast is live. Various screens twinkle, lit with diagnostic information. A suited dark blue and carapaced bipedal figure sits at a desk, fidgeting with its claws while its sharp tail bobs up and down. It begins its broadcast.

???: "Ahem. Hello there, you're listening to three pi googolplex, the most accessible call-in station in the Maelstrom."
???: "I'm your host, Bloodfang, the Archdevil of Public Talk Radio."

Bloodfang: "So anyway, before I get into today's activities, Management asked me to host a small announcement. If anything doesn't make sense to you, don't worry about it. Ahem."

A few switches click as the archdevil works. The green live signal turns to a blinking magenta as the lights in the studio die and the screens become empty. The room is pitch dark, aside from the status light and the dim glow of the host's eyes. It stiffens its posture and ceases to move, staring at the microphone intently.

"Greetings to all observers, across the maelstrom or beyond the veil. Amongst and beyond a shattered space-time, where the laws of being are intertwined with stories and the abstract, you are being granted an ear and voice. Feel free to comment along however you wish, we will listen to whatever you have to say. You can try anything. Freedom is important. Exercise your literal or metaphorical lungs and vocal pipes. Ask questions, make suggestions, talk about mimes, anything goes. We hope you have an excellent time. Oh and, if possible, do try to answer the host's requests. (They're optional of course)"

The station returns to as it was, with a green live signal and a lit room with equipment abuzz.

Bloodfang: "Ick. Always ruins my throat to do that. Luckily I shouldn't have to do that again for a while."
Bloodfang: "Anyhow folks, uh, today's topics uh. There's two main purposes. First off, uh. Management said there's probably a decent chunk of new viewers so,
Bloodfang: "we're gonna host a lil, qna. I'll ask a couple questions. And then I'll listen to any calls back. Hopefully get some answers. And then I'll reply to them and any questions."
Bloodfang: "The questions are 'How are you doing?' and 'What's your favorite wildlife?'. A bit basic, but I think it's best to keep things a bit tame to start."

Bloodfang: "And in addition to the questions, there'll be a prompt for starting this broadcast's storytime."
Bloodfang: "The gist of this, is that I have a group of stories, and I'll be narrowing down which one to tell based on some criteria."
Bloodfang: "The genre, as well as anything the audience wants to see. Uh, the common factor between all of them, is that these are stories about giant cannons that shoot people to move em."
Bloodfang: "Kinda wild. As a note, we can always uh, go back and tell multiple stories from the same set after we get done. Also, don't worry if you don't see everything show up."
Bloodfang: "Interactive stories are a bit tricky and sometimes you might accidentally skedaddle around something. Things that get missed have a tendency to show up later though."
Bloodfang: "Management's really good at helping things along. Speaking of which, they should append the things I asked, tied up in a nice bow for you."
Bloodfang: "Should be able to receive a call-in in Maelstrom from anything from a letter thrown with good intent, to a phone call or messenger pigeon.
Bloodfang: "If you're beyond the veil, hell if I know."

The host taps its foot, watching a screen for call-ins to be left.

===COURTESY-OF-MANAGEMENT:-REQUESTED-REPLIES===

Host's Questions:
"How are you doing?":
"What's your favorite wildlife?":

Bonus Question (Courtesy of Management):
"What's your favorite scent?"

Story Specification [Stories Featuring Giant Cannons That Shoot People At Things]:
"What genre do you want to see?":
"What else do you want to see?":]]>

Show Content

> A plot of soil lays bare, dull, and sandy below you. Small river stones sit where they have fallen, worn smooth from time. A phantom wind blows the dirt in small flurries.

> What memory do you plant in the soil?

> A: A small seed, blackened by dehydration

> B: A tangle of clear thread, knotted beyond repair

> C: A swatch of faded fabric, worn from constant use

> D: A nub of a pencil, the eraser chewed to the metal

]]>

]]> <![CDATA[You Won]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-590.html Thu, 11 Nov 2021 04:16:27 +0000 Lilium Mortem]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-590.html

Show Content

Prologue

Thinking back on the past can be painful. Regret, Loss, Guilt. Things did not go well that first session, where you fought to live. Where you treated it like a game... until it was too late. It was fun and whimsical at first, your stupid decisions were harmless, you were just having a good time. We won't dwell here long, but you cannot forget what happened.

You were given the void, to shape as you saw fit with a few simple commands. First you made the world, what was it like?

Second you spawned your first TCP, what word did you provide and what name did you give her?

Thirdly you gave her skills and possessions, what were they?]]>

Show Content

Prologue

If you want to leave an anonymous question, here is the curious cat link (I hope this works. Please remember: you can ask about any cats, but I can't promise they'll answer right away
Chatty Cats
]]> <![CDATA[TCP: >NEW GAME]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-424.html Thu, 20 May 2021 06:03:48 +0000 Blue_Fox]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-424.html
You wake up to a white void, surrounded by nothingness.

Among your first thoughts, a small amount of knowledge floods into your head.
"GIVE- sharing gifts makes the kitties happy and well! anything can be a gift.
CREATE- the void is pretty but has full of nothing! kitties can't walk or play on nothing.
NAME- naming kitties makes them unique and special! they like two syllables best.
TEACH- kitties have nothing but fluff in their heads! teaching things will make them skilled and strong.
CHECK- checking kitties is a good way to make sure everything's okay! sometimes they have secrets.
SPAWN: if you already have a kitty, you'll need more to keep them company! spawning with words helps you make more, but only if the limit says it's ok.
KILL: sometimes kitties aren't nice to eachother, or go bad along the way. this helps you keep things friendly!"

Kitties? You don't know exactly what this entails, but you may as well give it a try.

Your TCP Limit is now: 1]]>
You wake up to a white void, surrounded by nothingness.

Among your first thoughts, a small amount of knowledge floods into your head.
"GIVE- sharing gifts makes the kitties happy and well! anything can be a gift.
CREATE- the void is pretty but has full of nothing! kitties can't walk or play on nothing.
NAME- naming kitties makes them unique and special! they like two syllables best.
TEACH- kitties have nothing but fluff in their heads! teaching things will make them skilled and strong.
CHECK- checking kitties is a good way to make sure everything's okay! sometimes they have secrets.
SPAWN: if you already have a kitty, you'll need more to keep them company! spawning with words helps you make more, but only if the limit says it's ok.
KILL: sometimes kitties aren't nice to eachother, or go bad along the way. this helps you keep things friendly!"

Kitties? You don't know exactly what this entails, but you may as well give it a try.

Your TCP Limit is now: 1]]> <![CDATA[No where to go but up]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-407.html Thu, 18 Mar 2021 23:14:10 +0000 Clockwork Citrus]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-407.html Oh
hello! My name is Fiz! And today is a big day for me! I start my job at the HAAS TCP center. That’s the hearth air and space/science tcp center. It’s under ground which is a little weird for a space and air center but who am I to complain. Anyways, I don’t know why they clarified that it’s just for tcps, we are the only ones I’ve seen down here. But I mostly keep to myself.
but I can’t leave until I find my ID and Keys! I’m not sure where they are!

Where are the keys? CHOOSE
A) under the hat
B) in the bowl
c) behind the potted plant]]> Oh
hello! My name is Fiz! And today is a big day for me! I start my job at the HAAS TCP center. That’s the hearth air and space/science tcp center. It’s under ground which is a little weird for a space and air center but who am I to complain. Anyways, I don’t know why they clarified that it’s just for tcps, we are the only ones I’ve seen down here. But I mostly keep to myself.
but I can’t leave until I find my ID and Keys! I’m not sure where they are!

Where are the keys? CHOOSE
A) under the hat
B) in the bowl
c) behind the potted plant]]> <![CDATA[ALL MY HATS ARE GONE]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-385.html Wed, 06 Jan 2021 02:48:01 +0000 Lucy]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-385.html
THEY'RE COMING. NOT MUCH TIME. PLEASE.]]>
THEY'RE COMING. NOT MUCH TIME. PLEASE.]]> <![CDATA[Scrap City: Duel Days]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-319.html Fri, 23 Oct 2020 04:36:20 +0000 King-Clod]]> https://homebrewdeviants.com/forum/thread-319.html

You wake up with a jolt. You’re hyperventilating, drenched in sweat. Your vision is all out of focus.

Frick.

You squeeze your eyes shut and press your palms against your forehead. You try to concentrate on slowing your breathing.

It’s alright. You’re alright. It was only a nightmare. You deal with those all the time. Usually better than you are right now, you’d add.

You slowly open your eyes.

Get it together.

You pull the blanket and sheets off of yourself. You’re overheated enough as it is.

This nightmare was different from the usual, though. Same plot, same awful sinking feeling, sure, but the meat of it was all wrong. The perspective? The monologue? The separation from your body? The colorless, endless, hopeless void the dream took place in? It was eerily similar to your usual, but ever so, ever so slightly different. Which was almost more terrifying than the dream itself.

You sit up.

Was it about moving? Was it because this was your first night away from home in a while? Big changes can take a bit to adjust to, and while you were never one to get homesick, it wouldn’t be too out of line to have a bad dream because of it. Yeah. That could be it. You aren’t…
You aren’t really sure sure what else it could be.

You grab your phone off of the side table next to your bed. The time at the top reads 12:00 PM, and you have a few unread texts from your mom.

{What do you do next?}]]>

You wake up with a jolt. You’re hyperventilating, drenched in sweat. Your vision is all out of focus.

Frick.

You squeeze your eyes shut and press your palms against your forehead. You try to concentrate on slowing your breathing.

It’s alright. You’re alright. It was only a nightmare. You deal with those all the time. Usually better than you are right now, you’d add.

You slowly open your eyes.

Get it together.

You pull the blanket and sheets off of yourself. You’re overheated enough as it is.

This nightmare was different from the usual, though. Same plot, same awful sinking feeling, sure, but the meat of it was all wrong. The perspective? The monologue? The separation from your body? The colorless, endless, hopeless void the dream took place in? It was eerily similar to your usual, but ever so, ever so slightly different. Which was almost more terrifying than the dream itself.

You sit up.

Was it about moving? Was it because this was your first night away from home in a while? Big changes can take a bit to adjust to, and while you were never one to get homesick, it wouldn’t be too out of line to have a bad dream because of it. Yeah. That could be it. You aren’t…
You aren’t really sure sure what else it could be.

You grab your phone off of the side table next to your bed. The time at the top reads 12:00 PM, and you have a few unread texts from your mom.

{What do you do next?}]]>