The Creator's Compendium's Section III puts forward a powerful set of ways storytellers can use asteroids and comets in their settings. From harbingers of doom to settings unto themselves, these tiny islands in space are rife with potential!
From
SECTION III: THE STORYTELLER'S STUDY:
PLANETESIMALS AS STORY-SHAPERS
IMMINENT APOCALYPSE
One of the more obvious applications of planetesimals is a no-holds-barred, honest-to-goodness, down-to-Earth (pun intended) end-of-the-world scenario. The sheer number of times this plot device has been used defies counting—but its urgency, danger, and excitement make it a time-honored way to get the heart racing. A large incoming asteroid or comet can spell certain doom for much of—or all—of a planet’s population. Such a dramatic impact would make for a thrilling conclusion for a story, or a prospect that could provide the motivation characters need to save the day!
Of all the possible catastrophes that could spell doom for the human race, an impactor is one of the more likely. The news is pretty much all bad. According to NASA, there is a 0.000001% chance of an object like the comet or asteroid that killed the dinosaurs impacting Earth each year. While that doesn’t sound like much, when you add it up over the 66 million years since the dinosaurs lived, we’re almost exactly (statistically) due for such an event! Add to this the woeful inadequacy of the planet’s spacefaring agencies’ plans to handle this contingency, and you’ve got yourself a bona fide problem. NASA recently ran a simulation in which an asteroid was set to impact Earth in six months; after the week–long simulation, the team determined that it would take 5 to 10 years to destroy or deflect it. To be clear, it’s only a matter of time before an uninterrupted impact occurs naturally. The asteroid or comet with Earth’s name on it is out there somewhere.
Are you scared yet?
See? That’s a compelling story hook (and based entirely in the natural world)! But don’t start hoarding water and canned beans just yet; the likelihood for any given year—or even one’s lifetime—is extraordinarily low. NASA is taking steps to catalogue and monitor the orbits of near-Earth objects (NEOs; comets and asteroids whose orbits will or do take them close to Earth). In fact, 90% of objects larger than a kilometer are thought to have been catalogued already, and it is working toward cataloging ones even smaller. This isn’t to say that these orbits aren’t subject to change (these calculations being notoriously complex, as is the solar system), but the most likely objects to pose a threat in the future (of which there are very few) are being monitored closely. Plus, in 2027, there is a slated mission called the NEO Surveyor, which is to detect most these smaller potential threats. With these advancements, it’s possible to increase the amount of preparation time to divert such a potential impactor!
As for measuring the possible danger of such an impact, we have a few ways of classifying them; the Torino Scale is one such method, used to communicate the threat of near-Earth-objects, and you can read more about it on page 78.
The sketch here depicts just a few of the items Mareesha Chandra has encountered in her galaxy-spanning journey. You can find all of them in Mareesha's Cosmic Curiosities, a Dungeons and Dragons 5E supplement that incorporates the ideas in The Creator's Compendium!
EXPOSURE TO NEW MATERIALS
So many of the most memorable stories center around a particular item; some heroes define themselves by a weapon or object, and others treat their item as though it were a part of their body. Some figures are inextricably tied to items of power or symbolism: King Arthur’s Clarent and Excalibur, Moses’s stone tablets, Thor’s Mjolnir, Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon, Sauron’s One Ring, Aladdin’s lamp, and the Doctor’s TARDIS (and sonic screwdriver) are just examples from fiction and mythology in a list as long as the history of stories themselves. While often the objects are granted significance by the ownership and use by their possessors, the items are just as often forged or fabricated using strange, divine, magical, or unique materials that cannot be replicated via conventional means.
A common source of these materials is one of non-terrestrial origin: meteorite impacts. The materials taken from rocks that have fallen to Earth from the heavens can convey a sense of gravity (pun intended), destiny and supernatural bequeathal. Usually, they’re depicted as material so rare as to be unable to be acquired elsewhere. Lex Luthor famously crafts objects of kryptonite, a fictitious mineral found only in exceedingly rare meteorites, to thwart the powers of Superman; the characteristic blades and skeleton of the X-Men’s Wolverine are lined with the extraterrestrial metal adamantine; even King Arthur’s Excalibur was purported to have been forged of meteoric iron. There are also plenty of examples of real-life weapons crafted of meteorite remnants: Tutankhamen’s dagger with which he was buried, Attila the Hun’s intimidating Sword of Mars, and even James Bowie’s eponymous knife were all claimed to have been created using iron obtained from meteorites!
Section III of The Creator's Compendium is devoted to sample settings forged using the tools in the book. It also includes a set of scenes that take place in the settings themselves; below is a scene playing out on the icy planet Auvi, which is beset by a monthly barrage of cosmic particles. Just after dispatching an onslaught of robotic drones, a group of stone-age explorers investigates some ruins from a long-lost civilization, and marvel at what they can only interpret as magic.
From
SECTION III: THE STORYTELLER'S STUDY
AUVI: SETTING THE SCENE
Eveljia cleared the acrid smoke with a wave of her hand, coughing as she did. The last of the songstone-clad protectors, now smoldering, sparked at her feet.
As if the battle were already a distant memory, Tevira moved toward one of the pedestals across the room. “There isn’t any shimmerstone,” she signed to her sister, in that detached way she did. She pointed upwards, without looking herself.
K’eesi translated to the group, and all three women arched their necks to inspect the vaulted stone ceiling above. Indeed, the dull yellow glow of shimmerstone—invariably pounded into a thick layer onto the ceiling of every abode the women had ever seen—was absent. Unless they were far enough underground (a few meters or so ought to have done the trick) the chamber in which they now stood would be a deathtrap when the Glow came upon them in a few precious hours.
As if there weren’t enough things to give the group anxiety.
“Must be farther down than we thought,” Skullit shrugged, and turned her attention back to the glowing tablets before them.
As she made her way to the closest, held at waist-height by a minimalist pedestal of a mysterious black material, she kicked aside the remnants of one of the temple’s protectors. Its bloodless innards kept the pieces of its hard, dented exoskeleton together in a tangled mass. In its death throes, it made high pitched, unnatural warbles. “Intruder incapacitation uns—” it pathetically proclaimed in a stilted, tinny voice—before another of Skullit’s kicks silenced it for good.
She was getting nowhere with the tablet. It buzzed, clicked, and warbled in the fashion the protectors had. The magic held within the rectangular stone—a transparent one, at that—was beyond anything Skullit could decipher.
Eveljia was more at ease with the strange and wondrous item. “That’s the Shapers’ script!” she exclaimed. Her whiplike tail twitched and flicked with unbridled excitement. She touched the tablet, spoke to it, and circled about. Her childlike curiosity might not be the envy of most demonkin, but her tenacity was a trait for which they were known.
K’eesi, nudged each of the others from behind, grunted, and jerked her chin in the direction of her sister. Tevira was standing before another of the tablets.
Her hands were moving with blinding speed; it was as if she’d been born to use the artifact. Suddenly, a razor-thin line of light burst from the tablet, and with astounding precision, zigged and zagged over her. A second later, as K’eesi, Eveljia, and Skullit watched in awe, an ethereal image blinked into existence before Tevira, displaying a translucent copy of the robed mage.
“Illusion magic!” Eveljia marveled, as she began absentmindedly walking toward her mentor. “How did she do that?”
K’eesi seemed less impressed. “She’s dumb, but she isn’t dumb.” She chuckled to herself, but adjusted her eyepatch with an anxious motion that belied her nonchalance.
Tevira had abandoned physically touching the tablet. Her hands moved through the air in the gesticulations all of the women had seen before: the eldritch motions of a spell. But instead of the usual manifestations—floating runes, gusts of wind, or the like—the image of Tevira simply moved. Grew larger, or smaller, as Tevira toyed with the image; it generated small blurbs of script, fixed in their levitated positions about the ghostly figure.
Species: human. Subspecies: primary. Sex: female. Origin world: 0002 NCC. Indications of repeated nanobot network access. Apprehension and study recommended.
“Wait—what?!” K’eesi exploded. “Does ‘apprehension’ mean what I think it means?”
The room was silent. Even the inscrutable Tevira paused for a few moments, before a flick of her wrist swiveled the tablet on the black frame. The miniscule beam danced over Skullit, despite her reflexive protest. “H–hey!”
Again, a blueish facsimile appeared before the group—this time of the brutish warrior. Likewise, text began writing itself in the very air about the illusion.
Species: human. Subspecies: variant. Sex: female. Origin world: 0002 NCC. Specimen exhibits 82% genetic fidelity to rare human variant. Variant species projected for extinction within 1000 years of original stock acquisition. Apprehension and study recommended.
“‘Extinction’? What’s that mean?”
Tevira signed something—the only indication that she’d been listening to Skullit. “Widespread death. When an animal or people is completely wiped out,” K’eesi translated.
“Well, I’d like to see them try to ‘apprehend’ me, again.” She drove the point home with another halfhearted kick at the remains of the protector at her feet. She paused. “Well, what’s it all mean? I’m no sorcerer, but this seems different than any magic I’ve seen.”
Eveljia, unbidden and with the gravitas of great purpose, strode to the tablet. She steeled herself with a deep sigh. She turned the crystalline object to regard her; once the beam had completed its wild, erratic pattern, an image of Eveljia bloomed.
Species: ceratori. Subspecies: primary. Sex: female. Origin world: 0000 NCC. Native nanomachine saturation 12.3%. 99.99427% genetic match to record of user profiles 001, 003, 007, 008, and 009. Status: intrinsic access to nanomachine network unlikely. Recommend training regimine for alternative network access or genetic alteration to achieve saturation.
A few more words appeared below Eveljia’s clone. Database access granted.
Eveljia studied the text. In polite silence, K’eesi and Skullit let her read.
Tevira, on the other hand, could not resist the temptation to slake her curiosity. She moved to begin typing anew at the tablet, but K’eesi guided her to another. A wave of irritation washed over the witch’s face, but she complied.
Soon, her frenetic motions began anew, and a map of the temple erupted into view before her. Glad for the distraction, the two warriors made their way to get a better view.
Emblazoned over the map was large text: Magnetospheric Test Laboratory.
Tevira unleashed another set of gestures, unperturbed. The temple’s map shrunk, displaying instead a topological map of the surrounding region. Overlaid on the red map were orange curves; each erupted upward from the temple itself, then curved outward, away, and down. They plunged into the ground, curved through it, then inward and back up into the temple. The overall effect was that of the curved rind of a round fruit.
Outside the ball-like orange frame, streaks of yellow shot down from above, deflected along the orange curves, and arced down the temple where they disappeared. Where they weren’t deflected—anywhere outside the protective orange lines—a violet haze settled over the ground.
The Glow.
“That’s why there isn’t any shimmerstone!” Eveljia’s voice broke the contemplative silence, and made Skullit and K’eesi jump. Sometime in the intervening minute, she’d joined them. “No one would get sick here during the Glow because of the Shapers’ magic.”
And then everything came apart all at once.
The room’s lighting turned blue, and began pulsing.
A buzzing tone, at such a volume as to be head-splitting, sounded throughout the temple. It was accompanied by a blaring, emotionless voice in the tongue of the ancients. “Intruder location verified. Stand by for pacification.”
K’eesi’s bone axe was in her hand before the voice finished speaking. Skullit delighted at any opportunity to wield her beloved songstone blade, and this was no exception. Eveljia instinctively moved behind the two fighters, in well-practiced formation. Tevira, however, continued interacting with the tablet with newfound desperation.
A nondescript panel of the stone wall slid downward, exposing a square aperture. A moment later, a stream of the protectors blasted through the opening. A dozen. Two dozen.
“Protectors,” Skullit offered helpfully. “More, this time.”
The orb-like automatons, animated by some long-lost magic, made their own formations in midair. Tevira appeared at her side, busily sifting through her spell components. As she poised herself for battle, K’eesi cleared her mind of distractions. That is, of all but one.
Just before she’d finally relinquished the tablet, Tevira had done something she’d never done before.
She had smirked.
And for some reason, that made K’eesi’s blood run cold.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
From
SECTION II: THE TINKERER'S TOOLBOX
WORMHOLES
Before we begin opening this can of worms (pun intended), be forewarned: wormholes don’t have a shred of observational evidence to support them, and are entirely hypothetical. Most of the topics we’ve discussed so far are the cross-your-heart-truth as far as we know (with evidence to boot); wormholes, on the other hand, are entirely theoretical—and with a few caveats, at that. With this disclaimer, let’s get started!
Few tropes in science (or science fiction) have become as well-known in popular culture as wormholes; even their supposed usefulness—allowing the instantaneous travel from one location to another over vast distances—is common knowledge. As storytellers ourselves, it becomes pretty important that we have at least a basic understanding of how they might work if we’re to use them to drive a plot.
For one, wormholes are so named for their enabling the travel across long distances by using a shortcut. In an often-overused explanation, a piece of paper can be used to describe the basic idea. Imagining two positions on the paper being the starting point and destination of a journey, a wormhole would cause the paper to fold in on itself, and allow travel in an extra dimension directly from one location to the other by punching a hole through the page. The hole would (hopefully permanently) link the two positions on the page—and resemble the shortcut a bookworm would take through the pages of their namesake.
Firstly, it’s again Einstein (and many of the people who worked with his general relativity equations) who we have to thank for paving the way for the idea of wormholes. When you play with the equations—and rest assured that this is something people definitely do—there are particular scenarios that can be shown that turn the ideas of “location” and “travelling” on their heads. When the concept of wormholes was originally developed (or perhaps “discovered”), it was a result of exploring very bizarre situations—namely the massive gravity of black holes. According to the math, it becomes possible to create a sort of passage through a black hole, to another supposed body called a white hole. White holes, never observed in reality, would expel material much in the same way that black holes attract it; they would emit all the light that entered their companion black hole. Such a naturally-forming passage between the black and white holes would be incredibly unstable, and collapse just as soon as it formed. In order to prevent this, the passages would require the purposeful (i.e. intelligent and planned) use of exotic matter; this exotic matter would have qualities that simply haven’t been observed in our Universe. Chief among these strange qualities would be “negative energy” or “negative mass”…the true physical meaning of which defies all but theoretical attempts to describe it.
