Worldbuilding #5: Cthulhu Armageddon

How Cthulhu Armageddon came to be

Cthulhu Armageddon is a special case of world-building because it’s not completely my world. Instead, it is an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s cosmology created in the 1920s until his death in 1937. H.P. Lovecraft was an early believer in “open source” writing and often cross-pollinated with other others as well as encouraged them to use his concepts as well as ideals. Some of his fellow writers in the so-called Lovecraft Circle included Robert E. Howard (Conan the Barbarian) and Robert Bloch (Psycho).

For those unfamiliar with HPL’s writings, essentially the concept is that the world is sitting on top of a bunch of incredibly powerful aliens that have been sleeping since ancient times. These Great Old Ones are the size of Godzilla and possess vast reality-altering powers. There are also numerous offshoot races of humanity that worship them that are each more horrifying than the last, living among humanity in secret or in the dark forgotten corners of the Earth.

Above both are the Other Gods who are the lords of the Dreamlands where everything is possible and they are, at best, casually indifferent, and, at worst, amused with humanity the same way a child might torment an insect. Magic is real but eventually drives users insane and is tied to the terrible forces above. Eventually, the Great Old Ones will awake “when the stars are right” and destroy humanity.

Lovecraft’s work was very imaginative and influential despite not giving him financial success in his time. In simple terms, it was just too darn weird. Many writers from Brian Lumley, J. Michael Straczynski, and Stephen King have found it to be inspirational. Others have found Lovecraft to be troublesome or even offensive due to the fact, in simple terms, dude did not like minorities.

Some writers like myself, Matt Ruff, Ruthanna Emyrs, and Victor Lavalle have even addressed that as we’ve adapted his works. Nevertheless, his works helped inspire everything from movies to television to music to video games. I was introduced to it by the Call of Cthulhu tabletop roleplaying game.

The ideal for the Cthulhu Armageddon world came from a combination of factors that have competed for attention ever since. The first was the idea as a logical endpoint for Lovecraft’s writings. Eventually, the stars would be right and the world would be destroyed. However, humanity is remarkably good at surviving mass-extinction events and it occured to me there was potential in stories about the remnants of our once proud race struggling to survive in the shadow of literal giants. Sort of Call of Cthulhu meets Fallout: New Vegas if you will.

Even more so, as I wrote out the world, I started to get a sense of a Wild West feel to the place. Perhaps it was the Mad Max and New Vegas influences but hundreds of tiny little communities, lawlessness, tribal communities, and an eternal frontier invoked the idea for me. Thus, Cthulhu Armageddon became the Weirdest Western of them all. Even if it takes place in the Esoteric East.

Themes and Mood

Cthulhu Armageddon is a somewhat existentialist work that follows the fact there is no judgement or morality beyond the principles the protagonists choose to follow themselves. The gods are real but they are amoral and uncaring to the works of man. Life is cheap and arguably pointless since humanity’s civilization has been washed away and extinction is a very real possibility. It is a stark and uncompromising world where the definition of “human” is also changing and what that means. The protagonists must define what provides their life meaning in the very probably few decades that humanity has left and whether it is better to live eternally as a monster or to experience merciful death as a man.


Pre-Earth History

Human history is similar but different. Long before Earth, the universe was created by Azathoth the Blind Idiot God, who was there alongside Yog-Sothoth, and the Other Gods. Incarnations of physics and the universe’s laws, they transcended human understanding or even alien. Mutation and capriciousness created many races across space that evolved, lived, and died. Consciousness, however, created the Dreamlands that spawned ideas of gods.

These gods, called the Elder Gods or Small Gods, were more akin to the races that existed. They were less powerful but less inscrutable than the Other Gods. One of the Other Gods, Nyarlathotep, developed a fascination with these beings and became both their guardian as well as minder. It assumed countless visages across time and space, inspiring many gods and taking their forms.

Many of these races went extinct without issue but a small number developed science and magic to the point that they transcended normal existence to become immortal godlike beings. Nyarlathotep cultivated these quests no matter the morality and a handful of beings became the Great Old Ones. Some were gestalt hive-minds of their entire race and others were powerful individuals in their own right. Cthulhu was allegedly the first of their beings or, at least, among the first and led many to settle on the primordial Earth.

Pre-Human History

Earth was unimportant except for the home of several of these beings but attracted a fair number of alien colonists long before the primordial soup cooled. The Elder Things were the first of these races, dwelling on Earth for a billion years as scientist-kings. They created the protoplasmic shoggoths to serve as their slaves and would, in the twilight of their reign, help “uplift” humanity to replace them when the shoggoths rebelled. Eventually, the Elder Things would retreat under the continent of Antarctica’s surface before leaving the Earth altogether.

Another race that came to inhabit the Earth were the Great Race of Yith that lived during the time of the dinosaurs with vast cities as well as psychic powers. Destroyed by a ravenous infestation called the Flying Polyps, because their name is untranslatable, they psychically projected themselves into the future to escape extinction. It was their intent to possess a nonhuman race after the extinction of humanity, who they learned of via time travel, but this proved impossible given the events of the Rising.

Early Human History

The humans altered by the Elder Things escaped their captivity and interbred with mortals, some of them learning the secrets of Elder Thing technology. Knowledge is corrupting and a source of madness, though, as early humanity would soon learn. Early humans sought out the resting places of the Great Old Ones and attempted to make contact with them using primitive misunderstood magical rites or their Elder Thing bestowed psychic powers.

These poor fools were inevitably mutated, driven mad, or enlightened. From their brief psychic contact, they learned the Great Old Ones were almost omnipotent in power and would eventually emerge from their slumber to reshape the world in their image: an action that would result in humanity’s extinction. This time would be known as “when the stars were right” and created the earliest doomsday cults of the Great Old Ones. Nyarlathotep sent several of his avatars among them to help uplift the resulting doomed race in order to see if they would amount to anything.

Contact with the Great Old Ones resulted in the offshoots of humanity known as the Deep Ones (worshipers of Cthulhu), the Faceless Ones (worshipers of the Other Gods), Serpent Men (worships of Yig-Seth), and ghouls (worshipers of Shub-Nigguarath and Tsathoggua). These offshoots maintained the ability to breed with humans even as they eventually moved to different portions of the Earth or disguised themselves.

Much of the early human history with these offshoots passed into myth and legend with the fall of Atlantis, Acheron, Hyborian Age, and Stygia. Simply put, modern scholars or cultists obfuscated the true history of Earth as legend or mythology. The cultists of the Great Old Ones believing that the end of the world would make them gods beneath the gods rather than exterminate them like any other vermin.

The End of the World (“The Rising”)

Much of human history would be secretly defined by the conflict between cults fighting conflicts over which Great Old One or Outer God was the greatest (as if they would notice or care about such efforts). Much of human religion and science would be defined by half-understood glimpses into the greater universe by psychics or fragments of knowledge.

Perhaps the most complete and authentic book on the subject of the world’s true history would be authored by Abdul Al-Hazred, called the Necronomicon. It would describe the Old Ones, Other Gods, branches of humanity, the End of the World, and many rituals to channel the power of the sleeping beings.

By the 1920s, it was understood by many governments and academic institutions there were secret forces in the world. The greatest center of learning about this subject would be Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts. Humanity believed after several small occult wars in the shadow of “normal” history that it could survive the coming apocalypse or perhaps outlast it.

Humanity was wrong.

When the Great Old Ones rose, humanity was slaughtered en masse by the massive psychic powers of their kind. It not even war as attempts to use weapons of mass destruction were barely noticed by the beings. Worse, the laws of physics and time were broken. The Dreamlands swallowed the universe and not only was the Earth consumed but every galaxy as well as every star. What followed was not the end of humanity but the beginning of a new universe hostile to life as it once was. Humanity has survived 100 years in the shadow of the Great Old Ones. It may not survive much longer.


The Esoteric East (“The New England Wasteland”)

The Esoteric East consists of the North East of the former United States and parts of Southern Canada. It is a vast desert that is crisscrossed with small towns, villages, and the occasional city that has managed to emerge in the Rising’s wake. Most of humanity has been rendered extinct but the survivors are hardy as well as benefiting from the fact that few creatures of the New World actually care about their existence. While the universe is immensely hostile, indifferent, and uncaring to mankind–that applies to other species too.

Technology has roughly reverted to a early Industrial level with a focus on steam, easily repairable weapons, and domesticated creatures. Many of the animals and foods humanity lives on are changed in strange ways but they have been able to subsist on them regardless. Part of this may be that magic is much more powerful as well as prevalent. In a very real way, humanity continues to be able to live because they dream powerfully that they can and that has a tangible affect on the world even in a small way.

Humanity continues its bigotry in some forms, though, as while most humans have gotten past their previous racial bigotries, they now hold distaste toward mutants or those who bear inhuman ancestry. Ironically, the human offshoots are struggling to survive just like humanity and some have made peace with the race they formerly held in disdain. If mankind is to survive the next few generations, it will certainly have to change to become something else.

Religion has been strongly impacted by the cults that were prevalent in the region Pre-Rising and now mix openly with more traditional faiths that have become “weird” now that the apocalypse has occurred. Atheism and agnosticism mix with maltheism as well as polytheism as beings exist who are not gods but might as well be are everywhere. Many psychics and regular humans touch the Old Ones with their dreams now and go mad but it is impossible to tell as it is an insane world.

Sample Communities

New Arkham – A former US Air Force base turned city inhabited by the descendants of soldiers and “pure” humans of various races. They tend to be more technologically advanced than your typical Wastelander community but practice a nonsensical ideology about reclaiming the Earth for regular humans. They also bully and intimidate other communities for resources. They are one of the few places with any actual industrial manufacturing capacities, though.

Dunwych Nation – The descendants of a tourist group that took up residence in the ruins of Dunwich,MA. The Dunwych Nation is an alliance of tribes united by a shared culture and worship of the Other Gods as well as Great Old Ones. They have combined technology, survivalism, and magic to become a hardy but dangerous power in the region. New Arkham and the Dunwych maintain an uneasy rivalry.

Kingsport – One of the largest cities in the region and most prosperous. Kingsport caters to the Dunwych and other communities with trade and vice. It also possesses a still-functioning electrical plant of unknown energy sources. Sadly, Kingsport is also a place where slaves are marketed from by the Deep Ones.

Miskatonic – A community constructed around the libraries of the university that have since been moved to the building’s old steam tunnels. Miskatonic has become, ironically, a cult itself as it works with the Great Race of Yith to seek some way of keeping both their races alive.

New Innsmouth – After Cthulhu failed to recognize the Deep Ones for their faith, a purge of hybrids commenced to rid their race of “impurities.” The survivors included one band of refugees that headed in-land nearby a saltwater lake. They are a decent, albeit fishy, frontier people.

Scrapyard – A fairly typical settlement in the region that is built around an oasis. The locals practice an uncomfortable relationship with a nearby ghoul settlement that provides them resources in exchange for the bodies of their dead.

New Releases for 2019

Hey folks,

I thought I would share some interesting new works from the Phipps Factory. I hope you guys will check them out and enjoy the results. I’ve almost got all of my series on audiobook and will proceed to finish up the majority of the series from there.


Agent G a.k.a Case Gordon has managed to wiggle himself free from the United States military but the entire world has suffered in its place. After the eruption of a volcano and the release of Black Technology to the world, the world has become a cyberpunk dystopia with massive arcologies replacing the cities of yesterday. Now a ruthless corporate executive, well past obsolescence, he is brought back to deal with the world’s most dangerous terrorist: his ex-lover Marissa.

Available here

WRAITH LORD (Kindle, audiobook, paperback)

Wraith Lord is the sequel to Wraith Knight and a work I am particularly proud of. The premise of the series is that a Ring wraith-esque individual named Jacob Riverson has regained his free will after the death of the King Below. The sequel picks up after the events of the first book with Jacob now the ruler of the Shadowkind races with his brides Regina and Serah. A messenger from the South reveals that an attack against the North is imminent and Jacob is forced to face an impossible test: how does he get the world to side with the ruler of all monsters?

Available here

PREDESTINY (Kindle) w/ Frank Martin

Robbie is an ordinary high school student in a time when the US government is on the brink of collapse. The economy is now under the control of an alliance of megacorporations that seeks to make it a puppet state under their control. During a protest, he is almost killed by a group of assassins. Rescued by a beautiful white haired girl his own age, he’s told something he can’t wrap his head around: that he will become history’s worst dictator and the dying future is out to stop him from rising to power.

Available here

TALES OF THE AL-AZIF (Kindle, Paperback) w/ David Hambling, David J. West, Matthew Davenport, and David Niall Wilson

H.P. Lovecraft’s famous Necronomicon is not the only fictional book he created. Predating the Book of the Voices of the Dead was the Book of the Insect. Tales of the Al-Azif is a collection of novelettes based around Pulp heroes John Henry Booth, Harry Stubbs, Andrew Doran, and Porter Rockwell by various Cthulhu Mythos authors describing their encounters with the cursed book. I’m very proud of this one.

Available here

ESOTERRORISM (Kindle, audiobook)

Esoterrorism is a prequel to my United States of Monsters novels or they’re a sequel to it depending on how you choose to interpret it. Derek Hawthorne is a agent for the Red Room, the conspiracy that keeps the world from knowing about the supernatural. Its resources are stretched thin with a terrorist organization that is determined to reveal the truth to the world–they’re just going to use massive numbers of hungry dead to do it. Derek is framed as a traitor before he can discover who is responsible and it’s up to him and his partner to not only prove his innocence but stop the world from suffering a zombie apocalypse.

Available here

JUNE 2017 update on my writing

A heads’ up on where I’m related to on my various projects:

THE KINGDOM OF SUPERVILLAINY: I am at 22K writing this, which is a lot more impressive than it sounds as I haven’t “officially” started writing it. I planned to start writing it after I finished Lucifer’s Nebula but I keep writing a little bit more here and there as the jokes and plot come to me. It’s poor Gary enjoying the height of his success as a supervillain only to discover that comes with the cost of the heroes in retreat. Can he live in a world dominated by evil or will he decide he has to give the heroes a little push? I expect it to finish around 70K.


LUCIFER’S NEBULA: The sequel to Lucifer’s Star is 55K now and should be about 90K when done. The story will pick up a year after the events of the first book as Cassius finds its impossible to escape his past, no matter how far he runs. He must confront his doppelganger and wayward family, who are presently the heads of the galaxy’s ever-successful rebellion. But there’s a darker hand behind the Spiral’s civil war and if humanity doesn’t unite then it may simply join the legion of other extinct races across the universe. Cassius woudl rather just engage in some not-so-good-natured smuggling.


100 MILES AND VAMPIN’: The sequel Peter Stone’s original adventure. 100 Miles and Vampin’ picks up with him being in a slightly-better but still pretty poor place in the vampire hierarchy. In this case, he’s assigned to look after the equivalent of Stephanie Meyers and immediately botches the job when she’s killed by an unknown assailant. Forced to solve the murder before he’s thrown up as a sacrifice to the masses, Peter needs to decide if success among the undead is worth it. I’m about 50K into this out of 70K so another almost done volume.


WRAITH LORD: It’s taken just about forever to get my books right back for both Wraith Knight and the Red Room series. However, I have successfully done so. If you were interested in the my take on Tolkien-esque fiction then you might enjoy the fact I have a second volume coming out as soon as the cover is finished. Alex Raspad is working on it now. Jacob has consolidated his rule over the Formori and other “evil” races but does he really want to begin war with the “light” species? It turns out he doesn’t have much of a choice as they have begun their own invasion.


AGENT G: SABOTEUR: The sequel to Agent G: Infiltrator, we pick up with G now working for the United States government to hunt down his former comrades. Kept on a leash by the fact they have an offer to fix his condition before he dies in a few years (if he has that long), he’s less than happy with being one of the “good” guys. It gets worse when he realizes what he found out was true of his past was just the tip of the ice berg. It’ll be released as soon as I can get approval for it from Amber Cove.


ELDRITCH OPS: The sequel to ESOTERRORISM is ready to go and should be coming out in a few months. I just want to get the book in a place where I’m not competing with myself. In this case, Derek is bored out of his skull as a member of the Committee and wishes he hadn’t given up his field agent status. Stupidly agreeing to investigate a diplomatic incident between the Red Room and the Vampire Nation, he ends up getting himself in the crosshairs of forces which want a war between the two powers. Oh and Dracula, himself, has decided to become involved.


As for upcoming projects? I have plans on continuing the SUPERVILLAINY SAGA with not only Kingdom but an upcoming crossover book called WORLDS OF SUPERVILLAINY which will visit the universe of LUCIFER’S STAR and CTHULHU ARMAGEDDON. I also intend to continue both the LUCIFER’S STAR universe as a series while the majority of the others listed here will be capped off as trilogies. CTHULHU ARMAGEDDON is a special case as it was meant to be a stand-alone but I’m working on a third book and may have more as ideas come to me.

I’m also sketching out a collaboration with DAWN CHAPMAN for a Lit-RPG science fiction novel.

The Tower of Zhaal and Science of Supervillainy are now available in all formats!

Hey folks,

I have great news that THE TOWER OF ZHAAL, sequel to CTHULHU ARMAGEDDON, is now available on audiobook, paperback, and Kindle format for readers. Like the original novel, it’s a post-apocalypse story set in the world of H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos.

It has been a year since John Henry Booth’s exile from New America and the fall of the Black Cathedral. Cursed with a slow transformation into a monster, he has begun a doomed relationship with fellow escapee Mercury Halsey as they seek some way to arrest his transformation.

Dubious hope arrives in the form of the University, the deranged scientists and cultists descended from the staff of Miskatonic University. Except, their offer of help comes at a price. Having sold themselves to ancient aliens called the Yith, they wish John and Mercury to join a group of rogues in hunting down a wayward member of their faculty: a man who intends to release the last of the sleeping Great Old Ones on an already ravaged planet. If they’re telling the truth, John and Mercury will be heroes. If.

The Tower of Zhaal is the second novel of the Cthulhu Armageddon series, a post-apocalypse continuation of H.P. Lovecraft’s popular Cthulhu Mythos.

But the bigger news is the SCIENCE OF SUPERVILLAINY, fourth novel in the Supervillainy Saga, is also available in audibook, Kindle, and paperback format. I genuinely believe this may be the best Gary book yet.

Gary Karkofsky a.k.a Merciless: The Supervillain without Mercy™ returns in the fourth volume of the popular Supervillainy Saga. Having discovered the world’s greatest superhero slain by his doppelganger from another reality, Merciful: The Supervillain with Mercy™, and the arrogant President Omega, Gary dedicates himself to overthrowing both. Unfortunately, this is harder than it looks since Merciful has all of Gary’s genre savviness while President Omega has the entire brainwashed United States military behind him. In the end, though, there can be only one ruler of the world and two of these three feuding villains will have to go.

I think fans of my books will love both of these.

Purchase your copy of THE TOWER OF ZHAAL today!

Purchase your copy of THE SCIENCE OF SUPERVILLAINY today!

Excerpt from The Tower of Zhaal


The stars were not right. This fact was burned into the minds of every human being living on the ruin we called planet Earth. Once, the stars were white pinpricks of light against a black sky. They were comforting guides to astronomers, lovers, and sailors. The little dots of light hinted at vistas that humanity might one day visit. Those are not the stars of tonight’s world. The stars I’d grown up with, which hung above me this evening, were red, orange, and yellow burning orbs that pulsated and hummed with eldritch energies. Sometimes the night sky was black, other times white, and others still colors not meant for human eyes.

Billions of years ago, the alien gods known as the Great Old Ones descended from the sky to claim our still primordial world as their own. Entering an epoch-long hibernation, they and their servant races slept as the world evolved around them. A dozen sentient races lived, and went extinct before the rise of humanity. In the Twenty-First century, the Great Old Ones had reclaimed the Earth and humanity was reduced to small tribes, scattered towns, and bandit gangs.

It was like the Old West Reborn, though I supposed it was a New East given we lived in the ruins of Massachusetts. Every year, it seemed humanity drifted closer and closer to extinction with no end in sight. The stars were the most visible sign of the Great Old Ones’ presence, altering the very fabric of the universe with as causal a thing as a thought. Was it possible to survive in such a place where light, which should not have reached our world from distant solar systems for millions of years, now changed every second? I couldn’t say. It was a heavy set of thoughts for a caravan guard.

“Booth?” a voice called at my side. I stared up into the endless void above me. We were lying on rocky Earth in dusty plains far to the north of the city we called our home.

“Yes, Mercury?”

Mercury Halsey was one of my few remaining comforts. A short flame-haired woman of mixed Japanese and Caucasian descent, she had a thin, angular face with skin just recently weather-beaten from the sun. Mercury was not the sort of person one expected to survive in the harshness of the Wasteland. Appearances could be deceiving, though, and in Mercury’s case she was silk hiding steel.

Though she looked like either a merchant or scholar, Mercury was the former chief torturer for the recently overthrown New Arkham government. As a scientist, she’d been made to use her knowledge of healing to torment instead. In the end, she’d revolted and fled with me into the Wasteland. We’d been traveling together for almost a year and had become lovers—a development expected by everyone but me.

Mercury lay on a sleep roll beside me, her small body tucked under the blankets. I took a moment to admire it and wish we weren’t currently celibate thanks to my “condition.” Behind us, there were beaten-down carts and composite cars made from a hundred different vehicles being used to haul freight and drive cattle from Kingsport to New Arkham.

Creatures the locals called horses, but were a wide variety of strange mutated animals of a quad or hexahedral nature, also rode as part of the caravan. Dozens of humans were asleep or standing watch around us, a mixture of workers and guards like myself. Mercury was the caravan’s medic. The two of us had been intent on changing the world, but we’d somehow ended up becoming traders instead.

“What are you thinking about?” Mercury asked. Though we were resting, she wore  rough denim and goggles around her neck. Given the potential dangers of the Wasteland, we had to sleep lightly and wake instantly, ready for action at any given moment.

“The stars,” I admitted.

Mercury looked up. “Yeah, I suppose they are pretty tonight.”

I snorted. If there was one survival advantage evolution had granted humanity over the many Extra Biological Entities (or E.B.E.s, as the Remnant used to call them), it was the ability to normalize the inexplicable. Six-and-a-half billion humans had died in the Rising and the survivors had learned to share their world with all manner of strange creatures—many of which had lived beside us all along.

The surviving humans still hated the Deep Ones, ghouls, mutants, and Serpent Men of the world, but their existence no longer drove an otherwise rational man to madness. Even now, a century later, we were still scraping by with all the divisions that had existed before. The members of the Morgan Trading Company were more afraid of Dunwych tribals or human raiders than they were of monsters robbing them.

“The stars are beautiful,” I admitted, smiling. “I’ve been looking at them for hours.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“I don’t sleep much anymore. Sometimes I go for weeks at a time without rest.” I was speaking literally.

“Don’t let the others hear that,” Mercury whispered, looking over at my right arm. “They might take it the wrong way.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

I flexed my right hand, feeling the immense, terrible power within it. It was bound in bandages and cloth wrappings, long sleeves as well as gloves hiding its true nature. Arcane glyphs from the Necronomicon and Book of Eibon had been branded into my flesh while juju beads bought from Dunwych mystics were spun around the hideous black chitin that covered everything from my fingertips to my arm socket. On my right shoulder, spreading alien poison through my veins, was the Hand of Nyarlathotep. It was a scar in the shape of a human hand that often glowed with an ethereal white light.

The Hand of Nyarlathotep was a symbol of being “touched” by one of the Other Gods. I had only suspicions as to how I’d acquired it, but it now defined my life. Once, I thought the strange marking had been killing me, but time had revealed it portended a more insidious fate. I was becoming something other than human.

A stronger man would have taken his own life by now, but years of serving as a soldier had left me with a tenacious desire to live. The runes and beads kept the infection at bay, albeit poorly, and I’d gotten to live a few more months with my lover. Mercury could turn her attention away from the horror within me and love me regardless. Even so, she’d terminated her pregnancy last month lest she gave birth to a monster.

“How are the spells holding up?” Mercury asked, her voice uneasy.

“Not well,” I answered, more frustrated than scared now. “They slowed its progress in the beginning but I’m not sure they’re doing anything now.”

“We could try amputating it again.”



“It isn’t a matter of me not wanting to be a cripple. I tried cutting off my arm with the help of a tribal warrior during the trip through the Bloch Passage, but I awoke days later covered in blood and no idea how I got there. My arm had regrown and the amount of mutated flesh had doubled.” I didn’t tell Mercury that I’d awoken with blood in my mouth and a full stomach.

“I wondered what happened on that trip,” Mercury said, reaching over to place her hand on my shoulder. “I can judge the current rate of progression and give you a rough estimate if you want but—”

“How long do I have?”

Mercury touched my right and I shifted from her. Not only because it was my cursed one but also because of how her touch felt. It was electric and excited the dark alien parts of my brain that wanted to make her my mate in a way antithetical to human love.

“You have perhaps another two or three months until the change reaches your heart.” Mercury’s expertise with E.B.E.s and mutation had allowed me to get an accurate measurement of my condition. “After that, I don’t think it will stop. It will accelerate and consume your entire body. From there, you will no longer be John Henry Booth. You will be—”

“What?” I asked, daring her to say monster.

“I don’t know.” Mercury looked away.

I didn’t want to encourage her to try and cheer me up about my condition. There was too much scientist in her still. I felt like a specimen under her microscope some nights, a creature that might survive the end days yet carry some spark of humanity. Despite this, I loved her and tolerated her eccentricities. After all, Mercury was one of the few people I trusted enough to share my torn feelings with—just not all of them.

There was a part of me that I kept from her, a part of me, a repressed and hidden part that wanted to be changed. While I no longer slept much, I still dreamed. Azathoth, Azathoth, Azathoth. The relentless repeating of the Blind Idiot God’s name was a constant in the back of my mind now. Outside the ordered universe was an amorphous blight of nethermost confusion that blasphemed and bubbled at the center of all infinity.

Surrounding it was a court of nameless otherworldly priests, bards, and courtiers of descriptions that defied conventional reason. Their hideous chanting paid homage to the End of Everything and called to me to join them in an eternal dance of nightmarish joy. I wanted to join their revelry. To be free of this dead, dusty world of causal violence and hopeless nights so I could stop caring that every day seemed to bring us closer to oblivion.

But then I wouldn’t love Mercury. I wouldn’t love anything at all. Not my daughters, my son, or my squad mates living and dead.

Monsters didn’t love.

Only humans did.

“So what are we going to do?” Mercury asked, perhaps sensing my increasing ambivalence. There were times I’d seen her stand over me, thinking I was asleep, perhaps contemplating ending my life as a form of mercy. Her hesitation made me happy, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right emotion to feel.

“I don’t know,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“We need to make a final decision before the decision is made for us. Assuming we haven’t made the decision already by waiting this long.”

“I know,” I said, the bitterness in my voice harsh and thick.

I looked over to the other caravan crew to make sure no one was listening. Those who weren’t asleep weren’t close enough to hear, a fact I found relieving. Mercury hadn’t been exaggerating about the mutant burnings. I’d seen hundreds of them killed over my four decades of life, mostly at my hands.

Was the alien blood in my veins polluting my mind? Were the visions warping my will? Would a rational, uncorrupted John Henry Booth have hesitated to kill himself if it meant saving the world from one more predator? I just didn’t know anymore.

“Will you remember me if you change?” Mercury asked. “Us? Anything?”

“Nothing could make me forget you,” I lied to her.

“I can’t kill you.” Mercury’s blue eyes blinked in the darkness. “I’ve wanted to at times, even prepared the instruments, but I can’t. I’m as addicted to you as you are to me.”

It would have been a shocking revelation coming from anyone but her. Mercury had planned for killing every member of this caravan, should they turn on us, when we’d taken this job—and all our previous employers. It was a quality I liked about her. I’d already lost friends to my impending metamorphosis. Jessica O’Reilly, a woman I’d grown up with, had turned on me and tried to kill me. I still found myself wondering if she hadn’t been the sane one among us some nights.

“Thank you,” I said, looking down at the dusty ground beneath my bedroll. “I mean that.”

“I want you to live, no matter the cost. One more monster won’t make this world any worse. Maybe you’ll be able to remember it when everything else is dead.”

The bitterness in Mercury’s voice surprised me. It shouldn’t have. Mercury wasn’t just speaking grim cynicism, but prophecy. Nyarlathotep, the Messenger of the Other Gods and the inspiration for countless divinities, had spoken to me of humanity’s fate.

Three generations.

I did not know if he meant the accumulated lifespans of three humans or sixty years, but he had been clear in the rest of his statement’s meaning. Humanity, that weak race of primates I could no longer call my own, was doomed. Extinction would claim our race after Nyarlathotep’s ambiguous deadline passed and no force in the universe would stop it. I had sworn myself against this destiny, proclaimed I could stop mankind’s destruction, but that had been hubris. How could I save humanity when I couldn’t even save myself?

I reached over to grasp Mercury’s hand with my left one. Our fingers touched. “No one knows how long we have on this world. I might be cursed to something horrible in a few months or I might die tomorrow. The condition could reverse itself as well. Where there is life, there is hope.”

Even if it was a fool’s hope.

“Damn, you’re a bundle of joy tonight.”

“I thought I was being cheerful, actually.” I gave a half-smirk.

Mercury abruptly changed subjects, still squeezing my hand. “Do you think Jackie will be all right while we’re on this trip?”

Mercury was speaking of her our adopted daughter, Jackie Howard. Jackie was living under a curse every bit as dreadful as my own, possessing the hybridized blood of human and ghoul. Like my dear lost friend, Richard Jameson, Jackie would undergo a terrible transformation when she reached her thirties and cease to be as she was. The ghouls were not an evil race, their love of human flesh aside, but she would be forever ostracized from humanity thereafter.

“We left her in a city of murderers, pimps, and slavers—she’ll be fine,” I said, smiling.

Mercury snorted. “Not funny, Booth.” She was smiling, though.

I wasn’t joking. Kingsport was a town of criminals—it was also the only civilization I trusted not to kill Jackie out of hand should her true parentage become known.

“Mister Death has promised to look after her. The Dunwych tribesmen do not think of the E.B.E.s the same way we do. They think Jackie’s blood makes her strong.”

I did not trust the tribal shaman as far as I could throw him, but I did not believe he would betray our trust. I’d saved his people last year, as much through luck as anything, and he owed me.

“I just worry about her. Jackie’s the one good thing that has come out of the past year, our relationship aside.”

“Jackie is, indeed. We had to come out here, though.” One could not survive long in the Wasteland if one didn’t have a useful skill to trade for food and water. To feed our non-traditional family around me, Mercury and I both needed to work, and caravanning was the only thing that allowed enough payment for research into a cure as well as comfortable living.

Well, that and banditry. I wasn’t about to turn desert pirate, though.

“We will be home soon,” I reassured her. “You can continue to teach Jackie all the skills she needs to be a doctor or medic.”

“Fat lot of good they’ll do her in Ghoultown.”

I snorted. “Who knows, maybe they’ll find it amusing to learn about what humans called their bones.”

“Versus supper?” Mercury said, making an unfunny joke.

I laughed anyway. “Yeah.”

“I love you, Booth.”

“I love you, too.”

I leaned over to kiss her and as our lips met, I felt a dreadful pain in my chest. Pulling away, I placed my hand over my heart and felt it beat several times faster than normal. Looking up, I stared into the darkness and saw.

In a spectrum denied the three dimensions afforded to humanity, I saw past the dusty plains we were camped on to a group coming at us. A very large group. Dozens of gray-robed figures, each holding rods of crystal, were approaching in an eerie octagonal formation.

Some were men and women.


Others were not.

“Mercury, awaken the camp,” I said, sucking in my breath.

“Alarm!” Mercury shouted at the top of her lungs, running around the camp and waking up the guards who weren’t already on watch. “We’re under attack!”

Chapter Two

Cultists. There was one scourge greater than any other across the Wastelands, and that was those humans who’d chosen to devote themselves to the Great Old Ones. Not because they were more dangerous than the monsters around us, but because they focused their rage squarely on humanity. Not all the Great Old Ones’ worshipers were evil. The Dunwych, for example, walked the balance between fear and awe with practiced ease. Cultists mistook the Great Old One’s indifference to the Old World’s destruction as deliberate malice and attempted to curry favor by slaughtering their fellow man.

Now we were surrounded by them.

I did not know this group to be cultists because of their attire—robes were just practical desert wear, after all—but by the crystal rods in their hands. I’d last seen them wielded by the Elder Things on a trip to the Dreamlands—a dimension even more chaotic than our own. The weapons could deliver terrible electrical shocks and perform all manner of other, seemingly mystical, feats. No human could acquire them on their own. They had to have been given to madmen.

Our caravan wasn’t composed of fools. They went for their weapons and defensible positions. Everyone in the camp was armed and had ammunition to spare. Even a century later, it wasn’t difficult to find guns in the former United States—not that regular bullets did much against monsters. Hopefully, we’d get in some lucky shots.

On my end, I went for my A19 rifle. It was one of many composite weapons the United States Remnant had constructed in the aftermath of the Rising. A combination of a sniper rifle and an assault weapon, it had seen better days. Still, it was a weapon I knew well and had been trained in the use of. Furthermore, I had a secret weapon—a clip of orihalcum ammunition I’d managed to recover from the wreckage of a crashed Remnant helicopter. Made from a Deep One’s metal harvested from the bottom of the ocean floor, orihalcum could kill the unkillable.


Lifting the weapon’s crude half-functioning night scope, I gazed out into the darkness. The robed figures were a few dozen yards away now, having somehow traveled farther in the short time than they could have walked (or run). The one at the head of the group, a tall brown-skinned man wearing slightly more ornate robes than the rest, lifted a crystal rod as if to signal the others to do the same.

Snapping a cartridge clip into the chamber, I wasn’t fast enough to fire before the air filled with glowing bolts of light. The bright beams arched through the darkness like mortars before landing on our campsite. Explosions knocked over and killed many of the workers around me, igniting our cargo. The fire burned unnaturally fast, leaving a near-instant ruin of char in its place. Some of the guards I’d befriended—Davidson, Bone-Face, and Hillary—were already dead. I intended to avenge them.

It was Mercury who scored the first kill as she raised a pistol and fired repeatedly into the night. I saw one of her bullets strike a cultist in the chest and send him spiraling to the ground. I switched to automatic fire, gunning down another figure with tentacles for a mouth before switching to a second, and a third. The air filled with staccato bursts. My ears stung, but I ignored the pain, concentrating on taking down as many attackers as possible.

Unfortunately, the battle was lost before it began. More energy bolts sailed our way, adding to the slaughter. I saw a woman, Mavis, fall to the ground with her entire chest burned out like it was kindling. Her eyes stared into the star-filled sky, the orbs glazed over with a primordial terror.

The cultists continued to advance.  Their weapons could tear us apart from a distance, but they chose to move closer, enjoying the slaughter.  More of the robed figures dropped as the five or six of us remaining relocated behind cover to retaliate. As advanced as their technology was, the cultists weren’t bullet proof, and more of them died every step they took. The problem was, their steps were not normal. Somehow, they were warping space and time, not running, or taking long strides, but seeming to flash ahead, every foot they moved seeming more like a yard.

I kept firing. The cultists ignored the bloody bodies they left behind, proceeding as if not assaulted by a hail of gunfire. Only the brown-skinned man in the lead reacted differently. I targeted his head with my rifle and pulled the trigger. He showed no response at all—it was as if my bullet had passed through him.

“Fuck,” I muttered, focusing on the other cultists, who seemed more vulnerable to my attacks. They were less than thirty feet away now and their numbers had halved, but they still outnumbered us. They probably could have killed us, and I wondered if they planned to drag us back for some sort of ceremony. If so, I vowed to save the last bullet in my gun for myself.

“They’re not slowing down, Booth,” Mercury shouted, scoring her seventh kill. She was having more luck than I was. I noticed that several of the bodies I’d gunned down earlier were getting back up.

“No shit,” I muttered, before shouting, “We need to fall back!”

The other surviving guards didn’t get a chance to respond, as less than ten feet away, the cultists aimed their crystalline weapons and obliterated them. So much for not killing us. Their bodies didn’t get blasted apart as Mavis’s had, but were burned with such heat that they seemed to melt where they stood. Soon, only Mercury and I were left.

“Fuck!” I swore again, this time running backwards as I fired. Mercury did as well. All of the corpses on the ground we’d shot to pieces had risen. I decided to switch to my orihalcum clip but wasn’t sure those would do any good either. How did you fight an opponent who wouldn’t stay dead?

“What was that about us heading back to Kingsport after this?” Mercury baited me. “Funny, I seem to recall the word ‘easy’ for this mission.”

“Not the time!”

The two of us maneuvered through the burning wreckage of the carts and composite cars, firing at the cultists as we went. They were forming a circle around the camp. My head started to ache as I heard the chanting of Azathoth’s name in the back of my head change. No longer was it the sound of his distant court, but instead, seemed far closer and in an eerie language that was not meant to be spoken by a human tongue.

“F’gnarrgaa haaa’ra abagarnaaa cathaaal Yith. F’gnarrgaa haaa’ra abagarnaaa cathaaal Yith. F’gnarrgaa haaa’ra abagarnaaa cathaaal Yith.”

Taking yet another shot, I grimaced, feeling like my head was about to explode. I understood that language. It spoke to memories locked in the fabric of my DNA, or perhaps some spiritual link my consciousness had to the greater universe. Moreover, I knew the word Yith.

Spoken of in Unknown Kults, they were an ancient race which had once inhabited the Earth during the Cretaceous Period. Advanced yet peaceful, they psychically sailed the oceans of time and space, learning about other worlds by seizing the bodies of lesser creatures. They had lived among the dinosaurs before the latter’s extinction and occasionally popped up to record humanity’s dying days in the present. Did the cultists worship the Yithians, or had they simply adapted the word to their use with no understanding of what it meant?

Reaching the end of my clip, I bumped into Mercury as we slipped behind the one composite car undamaged by the cultists’ hellish bolts. A former school bus, the vehicle had carried the largest portion of cargo in the caravan—foodstuffs like grain, rice, and fruits for the people of Arkham. The other goods had been destroyed out of hand, but the cultists had left this one alone. Was it simple robbery? Were they just cattle rustlers and horse thieves? The lives of dozens sacrificed for the price of a few crates and animals? Perhaps. I’d seen people killed for much less.

Behind us, the inferno of three carts that had been pulled by a now-half-melted truck hid us from the cultists now encircling our campsite. I had no doubt they knew where we were, though, and that they could kill us at any time. Indeed, it was strange they hadn’t done so already. They had killed everyone else without hesitation. We were being kept alive for some reason.


Mercury turned to me, sweat covering her brow, her eyes reflecting the flames around us. The heat was tremendous and it was difficult to breathe. For all the horrible changes I’d undergone, I still needed to breathe, and we’d run out of the battlefield into what was close to a raging inferno. Still, I saw no hopelessness or terror in her face.

Only anger.

“If you have any ideas, now would be a good time to share them.” Mercury’s voice was choked, but I knew she’d rather go down fighting than become a cultist’s pet.

So would I.

I lifted up my ammo clip of orihalcum bullets and switched it out for the one in my A19. “Perhaps these will make a difference.”

“Ia Cthulhu, motherfuckers!” a voice spoke from the doorway of the bus beside us as the drunken figure of Rodriguez Castro stumbled out.

I did a double-take, seeing the wizened old man. Rodriguez was seventy years old if he was a day, but the white-bearded, hunched-over figure seemed more defiant than either of us.

Wearing a brown vest, linen pants, and a moonshine-stained shirt, he was carrying a small carved stone figurine and a revolver. I had not spoken to the man much, but my brief experience with him told me he was a lunatic who’d survived more terrors in the Wasteland than perhaps anyone else in Kingsport.

“Stay in the bus!” Mercury shouted, stunned by his appearance.

“I choose this!” Rodriguez shouted, waddling over to nearest flaming wreck and tossing the stone figure into it. “Die and burn!”

Then he shot himself in the head, And the ground started shaking.

“That was unexpected,” Mercury muttered, blinking rapidly.

I couldn’t quite believe what I’d seen. “Yeah.”

Mercury tugged on my sleeve. The psychic repetition in my head dissolved as I heard rapid discussion in a variety of languages ranging from the alien tongue I’d heard earlier to English. The last voice spoke words of panic and warning, and very suddenly, a sense of terror from our attackers. Whatever their mysterious plan, they had not counted on dealing with what we were now faced with.

A summoning.

Summonings were just one of the black arts mankind had turned to in the wake of the Rising. Ancient and inscrutable creatures had taught us the secrets of drawing them to this dimension through the power of will alone—I suspected this was akin to ringing a dinner bell as far as they were concerned. Controlling such creatures was possible if one were a very powerful psychic or if you were the one who summoned them.

I was not a powerful psychic and Rodriguez was dead.

“I’m not sure which way to run,” I said, clutching my rifle.

The ground beneath us began to crack as the air charged with static electricity. The largest of the cracks expanded while Mercury and I backed away. Like a rift between worlds, the ground beneath us had become a portal to somewhere else.

Mercury sensibly looked away from the manifestation, but I stupidly gazed forward and saw the harrowing sight of an alien world beyond. Its skies were green and storming with metal raindrops while vast glowing clouds hung beneath the planetary rings. A horrendous sickly-green tendril, as luminescent as the clouds of its world, moved up through the portal and planted itself on the surface of our world.

On its native planet, the creature might have been an average or weak member of its species, but Earth was fantastically blessed for fostering weakness even in its present shattered state. Evolution had created life in places where gravity was hundreds of times worse and the air would sear the flesh of men like dry paper when tossed into a fire. Here, this creature would be all but indestructible.

Yet another god in a world ruled by them.

My apathy toward death dulled my reflexes and left me staring at the creature in admiration while it rose to its full height. The glowing-green creature was several long tentacles stretching from a single body that resembled a half-melted wax candle possessed of a single enormous maw. Hundreds of glowing orbs of blackish light were buried into the side of its rock-like carapace, and above its head there was a nimbus of colorless energy swirling around its central stalk.

Mercury, thankfully, wasn’t as entranced by the monster’s sudden appearance as I was. Grabbing my A19, she aimed the weapon and began firing into the surface of the horrible, yet majestic abomination before us. Black orbs and pockets of its flesh exploded from the orihalcum bullet strikes. The creature thrashed and hissed under the fire, feeling the sting of the mysterious metal.

“Yeah!” Mercury shouted, keeping her finger pressed on the trigger.

Right until the clip ran out.

“Fuck,” Mercury hissed.

I pushed Mercury out of the way before she could do the same and found myself wrapped in the crushing vise of the alien monstrosity’s tentacle. As the creature’s carapace burned, its body heat felt like a hot iron pressed against my skin. It seared away my clothes where it touched, and with the slightest squeeze, it could have bisected my body like burning metal through cheese. The pain was immeasurable, erasing rational thought.

I cried out, the sound an incomprehensible roar. Inexplicably, I found my golden side-knife, a gift from my ex-wife Martha, in my right hand. A weapon of the Deep Ones, it was made of orihalcum and woven with spells far above those any human wizard could inscribe. Animal instinct took over and I jammed the weapon into the monster’s tentacles.

While appearing to be made of gold, which would have made the blade malleable, the weapon sliced through the creature’s carapace and I began carving it away to the flesh underneath. Orihalcum was a gold-like substance that tore other-dimensional creatures apart like fire and tinder. Black acidic ichor bubbled forth from the wound underneath, melting away my sleeve and revealing the chitin-covered black arm beneath.

I laughed insanely, stabbing my black arm deeper into the creature’s tentacle and pulling out a yellow set of tubes. The creature let forth an ear-piercing multi-pitch wail from a dozen holes that opened across its central stalk. The tubes I held burst when I squeezed them, causing more of the black ichor to pour out onto my mutated hand.

The creature dropped me on the ground, thrashing its tentacles in every direction. Hideous burning scars raked across my chest, but I felt no pain. Were I a normal man, I’d have been dead or screaming in agony, but instead the sensation felt like a baroque echo of pain. I threw up a greenish black substance on the ground.

“Ib’in ack thuhl kargrba zach ign Cthulhu!” I heard Mercury mangle and spit out the guttural language of the Deep Ones. I recognized the spell she was casting, one of the many described in the ritual section of the Necronomicon.

“Mercury!” I shouted, calling for her to stop. The forces the spell harvested were enough to tear most human hosts apart. I’d seen hybrids of the Deep One, regular humans, and ghouls ripped to shreds for attempting to invoke Great Cthulhu’s power.

Much to my surprise, the creature behind me stopped thrashing and began to sweat sulfurous ooze from dozens of holes across its body. The crack it had emerged from began to seal behind it and the creature attempted to flee through it, half of its vile body sinking back down into the alien world from which it had emerged.

“Ib’in ack thuhl kargrba zach ign Hastur!” Mercury screamed, raising her hands high in the air. “Ib’in ack thuhl kargrba zach ign Shub-Niggurath! KATHALL!”

The creature slipped into the last of the crack before it sealed over, disappearing from our world forever. I did not know if it feared the power of Cthulhu being channeled through Mercury’s invocations, the equivalent of a rocket launcher held by mice, or whether it had been forced back into its realm by her will alone.

Either way, she’d saved us.

Rushing to her side, I reached for her with my inhuman clawed hand. Mercury shuddered away from it and I hid it behind my back. Lifting my human hand instead, I said, “You banished it.”

“I did.” Mercury coughed, clearly shaken. “Yay me. Now we just have to deal with a horde of rampaging cultists.”

I looked over my shoulder and saw that all of the fires had gone out and we were surrounded by the dozens of gray-robed cultists who had left their circle to approach us. They’d done so silently. I hadn’t picked up on them—which was impossible.

“Oh, ha ha,” Mercury said. “Very funny, gods I don’t believe in.”

The brown-skinned cultist from earlier stood at the front. He was close enough now that I could get a better look at his features. The man was tall, as tall as me, with a handsome face and short, dark hair. A pair of wire-frame spectacles sat on the bridge of his nose and there was intelligence behind his eyes.

There was also a sense of contempt, as if I was not worth his attention. Then again, from his perspective I was a mutant who’d just gotten into a fistfight with a creature from another world. Not exactly someone you wanted to invite to a dinner party. The figure had a crystal rod aimed at my chest.

The man spoke in a calm, soothing tone. “I am Professor Harvey Armitage. Mister Booth, Ms. Halsey, we need your help.”

Available for purchase from

Cthulhu Armageddon’s paperback and Wraith Knight are now available!

I’m pleased to say that the paperback version of Cthulhu Armageddon is now available for purchase. Those who want to visit the raw and dangerous land of the Massachusetts Wasteland can now enjoy it in paper format.

I’m also pleased to say both the ebook and physical copy versions of Wraith Knight are now available for sale as well. If you’ve ever wondered what happens after a typical Fantasy Dark LordTM is defeated as well as how the various factions will deal with one another then Wraith Knight may well be for you.

Update for 11/15/2016

Hey folks,

It’s been a good month for books and a bad month personally. My poor father had to be checked into the hospital and is likely to suffer the loss of a leg. He’s suffering from infections which have reached his bone and the treatments just haven’t done very much for making sure it gets it out of his system. Vibes, well-wishes, prayers, and so on are appreciated.

On the cheerier side of things, my wife and I just had our 6th wedding anniversary! I’m very blessed to have had her presence in my life and hope to make that six years ten times as long.

Now onto book news.

WRAITH KNIGHT’s paperback version is technically out now, I say technically because I’ve been told there’s been a delay but only until the 18th. The ebook version is also completed but hasn’t been posted despite having my copy so hopefully that will be resolved. Also, we haven’t gotten the audiobook finished yet either.

They’re all coming, though, and it’s been a big transition from Ragnarok Publications being an indie publisher to one which is available in book stores, Growing pains and all that. Please have patience as my wife has reminded for me to as well. This is a book I can honestly say is worth it.

People who have been worried my other projects will be taking away from the SUPERVILLAINY SAGA do not have to worry as I’m about 1/3rd of the way through THE SCIENCE OF SUPERVILLAINY and am doing it for NanoWriMon. You can follow my rather faint progress on my website here. I’m shooting for a March 2017 release for the book with a simultaneous audiobook release.

I’ve already got THE TOWER OF ZHAAL (Cthulhu Armageddon 2#) submitted to Crossroad Press and they’re editing it by hand. While most of my books are set for being trilogies, I’m really of the mind the Cthulhu Armageddon series and Supervillainy Saga will be my two ongoing works.

Also, I’d like to apologize for a fact which numerous readers have pointed out that I accidentally had “clips” instead of “Magazines” for pistols. This is apparently one of the single most commonly misused things in fiction and RL for causal gun users and is akin to Dan Brown calling the immortal painter “Davinchi” instead of “Leonardo.”

Also, using squad and squadron interchangeably. Now I could do some B.S. about how Derek in Esoterrorism is just being a jackass or the Red Room has its own terminology but that’d be silly. Sorry guys. I’ll be better next time.

Have a great Thanksgiving folks.

A month of great reviews

It’s been a week of great reviews for my books CTHULHU ARMAGEDDON, STRAIGHT OUTTA FANGTON, and THE RULES OF SUPERVILLAINY. I want to thank everyone who was involved in them and share some of the best of the bunch.

Cthulhu Armageddon Reviews

The Audiobook Reviewer (4 out of 5 stars)

Brian’s Book Blog (4 out of 5 stars)

Book Lover’s Life (4 out of 5 stars)

Grimdark Magazine review (4 out of 5 stars)

The Grimdark Alliance (4 out of 5 stars)

Blogin’ Hobgoblin (4.5 out of 5 stars)

Beauty in Ruins (4 out of 5 stars)

Fantasy Book Critic (4 out of 5 stars) (5 out of 5 stars)

Straight Outta Fangton Reviews

Fantasy Book Critic (5 out of 5 stars)

The Rules of Supervillainy Reviews

The Bookie Monsters (4 out of 5 stars)

Blogin’ Hobgoblin (5 out of 5 stars)

Cthulhu Armageddon by C.T. Phipps

An excellent review of CTHULHU ARMAGEDDON by people who know Grimdark.

Grimdark Alliance

31623984If you’re a video gamer and enjoy the likes of Bethesda’s Fallout, Rust, or movies like Mad Max, you’re going to want to step into C.T. Phipps’ world of Cthulhu Armageddon. Phipps creates a post-apocalyptic world where the United States has been destroyed by an event called the Rising when the “Great Old Ones” have returned to reclaim our world as their own. The world as we know it is thrown into chaos and the blasted wastelands are plagued by nasty creatures, sub-human species, and factions. The setting is diverse, well explored, and makes an excellent backdrop for any number of stories to take place.

Enter John Henry Booth. Booth is the leader of a ranger/extermination team called Gamma squad which protects the interests of New Arkham, a city-state in the former United States where some of the last remnants of humanity reside. Booth has a lot of familiarity…

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Two essays by me for the Fantasy Book Critic!

Hey fans,

The FANTASY BOOK CRITIC has been a big supporter of my work. It’s probably my favorite review site on the web right now. One of the things they’ve done for me is they’ve shared two of my essays on writing which I recommend to both of you.

TO MYTHOS OR NOT MYTHOS – An essay which talks about whether or not to do works set in H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos when you’re a new horror writer. It’s how I decided to do CTHULHU ARMAGEDDON.

GIVING BACK VAMPIRES THEIR BITE – An essay which discusses the nature of vampires in recent years and how they should be treated to get the maximum effect from their horror/sexiness. An essay related to STRAIGHT OUTTA FANGTON.

I hope you guys will enjoy.