Adventures in memory, attachment,
and riding the uncanny rails
A game for 3–4 players (plus optional GM)
Version 1.01
A game for 3–4 players (plus optional GM)
Version 1.01
Copyright © 2021 by Zach Welhouse
Published by Penguin King Games Inc
ISBN (digital edition): 978-0-9936940-5-9
Cerebos, The Crystal City is a tragicomic roleplaying game about exploration and self-actualization. It's also about riding the rails, visiting improbable cities, and experiencing uncommon vistas. It's about homesickness and lumpy beds and brand new stew and finding a satisfying coda for the broken song in your heart.
Cerebos is farther from the City by the Sea than the maps say. No roads lead there. Not from the sea. It is across the desert, past the common delights of glass and spice. In the City by the Sea, aged mothers by their hearths quarrel with the horn-knuckled fisherfolk on many particulars. In this they agree: there is no stopping those who search for Cerebos. They are pilgrims on an alchemical timetable. Only by testing themselves in the world's crucible can these desperate travelers transform their memories into something greater.
Each traveler carries physical touchstones, fleeting moments trapped within shards of eternity. Who pities the youth bound by the scent of an undying gardenia? What of the stranger chained to a pocketwatch promise? We can only watch as they drift further from humanity and disappear into the past. They travel in the only direction they're able: toward Cerebos, the Crystal City.
The journey begins at a railway terminus in the middle of the desert. The travelers are headed to the Crystal City, where they learn the truth about what drives them. Along the way, they experience flashbacks, overcome unexpected events, and disembark from the train to encounter surreal stops.
Over their journeys, the travelers confront their connections to the past. They learn who they were and who they wish to be.
The concept of “strange lands” (like that of “home ground”) has some holes in it, presents new questions. Are “strange lands” an objective geographic reality, or a mental construct in constant flux?
Every journey to Cerebos takes a different route, but the underlying structure is similar. There is a desert. There are travelers. They may or may not get along. There is a train. The story ties these elements together, while the rules of the game drive the story. They promote change and provide a fate to challenge. And just as a train demands rails, a story demands a summary.
“All cities change,” I said.
“None as fast as Tainaron,” Longhorn replied. “For what Tainaron was yesterday it is no longer today. No one can have a grasp of Tainaron as a whole. Every map would lead its user astray.”
What sort of story do you want to tell? How does this play into the story your group wants to tell? Talking about these elements before you begin ensures everyone contributes a guiding star to the constellations of your journey.
Consider how much weirdness, whimsy, or magic the world contains. Is the technology familiar or alien in a way that challenges your assumptions about a harsh, uncaring universe? Does your tale feature hijinks, shenanigans, and general tomfoolery, or will it be written in tears on a wind of ash and ghosts?
Every train has a conductor, who serves as a personification of the world. Your conductor and your group's hopes for the world inform your traveler and path that is yet to come.
Although many aspects of Cerebos are intentionally abstract, flexible, or otherwise ill-defined, creating a welcome environment at the game table is non-negotiable. Mechanics like secret goals and keepsakes that allow the re-narration of another traveler's rolls provide more control over other players' characters than is found in many traditional roleplaying games. If abused, this control of the narrative can ruin the experience for everyone at the table. Be careful and don't be a jerk.
It's very easy to self-identify with a character, mixing bits of your personality or life experiences with their own. Actors, flaneurs, and gifted pug dogs do this all the time. It's part of what makes roleplaying so engaging, but it can also lead to surprising discoveries. If a scene becomes too real, too gross, or even just not fun in a strange way, let the other players know. You're all playing for a shared, positive experience.
For some groups, an informal discussion of what kind of stories they want to tell will suffice. The pre-game discussion about the choice of conductor and the tone of the game informs everything that follows: “Keep it PG-13”, “I don't like playing villains”, or “Romance is all right, but not with another traveler” are all valid.
Even if certain themes (say, child endangerment or casual alcohol use) are key features of your chosen genre, an individual may not want them to intrude on their character. Although many Cerebos games involve suffering and unpleasantness, this negativity should never spill over to injure the players. The travelers may be up to their eyeballs in misery, but it's the consensual sort.
Some groups prefer a formal system for ensuring everyone feels safe exploring the same narrative space. John Stavropoulos's X-Card (http://tinyurl.com/x-card-rpg), which involves stouching a card marked with an “X” to indicate an uncomfortable scene, is one popular method. Other groups use colored cards, much like rail signals. If a scene's getting dicey, simply tap the appropriate card to let everybody know:
If you're not sure if a specific topic is going to cause problems, ask. Finding out beforehand is preferable to learning several cities down the line. If a situation does show up that causes bad feelings, talk it out.
But the landscapes we dream are just shades of the landscapes we've seen, and the tedium of dreaming them is almost as great as the tedium of looking at the world.
Cerebos typically lasts two sessions of 3–4 hours, but the pacing is ultimately up to the players. The Seeker appears quickly if travelers rush through flashbacks. Likewise, it's up to the Saints and Demons whether the Seeker has a relaxing Second Leg. For more about Saints, Demons, and Seekers, see The Second Leg.
If time is of the essence, consider selecting the conductor, touchstones, and character goals before the day of the game.
For the most nuanced travelogue, each traveler should experience at least one solid flashback before the Second Leg begins. Learn a little about who you were to inform what Cerebos could be. Take time to develop a sense of place and breathe in stops. What sort of conversations do the travelers overhear? How does the stop's history shape its current events? What looks good on the menu today? Not every detail is important by road's end, but travelers often find meaning in the most unexpected detours. Take some risks and explore the possibilities with your fellow travelers.
As the story unfolds, it will probably settle around a single traveler or dynamic. That's where Seekers come from. However, don't be afraid to chase the song of a distant siren down a dodgy alley. What's the worst that could happen?
O my neighbor, indeed we are strangers in this place,
And every stranger to a stranger is kin.
Every train has a conductor. During your time riding the rails, the conductor may be a guide, chronicler, psychopomp, or agent of order – to say nothing of the dog. If you're playing with a GM, they're responsible for the conductor once the story begins.
The conductor sets the genre of the story. If the travelers are riding a train powered by gumdrops and stardust, the stops look different than if the engine is fired by human misery. In the first instance, a dream factory would most likely be a pleasant stop where the passengers could slide down rainbows and relive the clambakes of their youth. In a more dire setting, the same dream factory could be the site where nightmarish drones render whimsy and passion into mass-market commodities.
In the real world, the conductor is responsible for every part of the journey that doesn't involve actually operating the train: checking tickets, keeping the schedule, and interacting with the passengers and the cargo. The engineer handles the mechanical side of the operation, assisted by an engine crew of firemen (also known as stokers or coal shovelers). In the world of Cerebos, any or all of these jobs can be combined into a single conductor. However, travelers who prefer a larger number of travel companions may find solace in a larger crew.
The engineer and the conductor may be rivals with differing opinions on how to run a train, an annoyingly effective comedy duo, or even the source of trainbound intrigue.
In addition to setting the journey's genre, the conductor modifies the rules of the trip. Each conductor has four Conductor Powers. The first Power automatically influences the journey. The second and third Powers provide additional Train Actions. The final Power is a Stop Action. The conductor's Train and Stop Actions are available to all travelers. See Train Actions and Stop Actions for more details.
When selecting a conductor, it's a good idea to discuss what sort of story everyone wants to tell. Will it emphasize quiet, gentle moments of personal reflection or episodes of bombastic strangeness? What sort of violence and emotional distress are on the table, and how explicit will they be? You have control over other travelers' pasts, so make sure to play within the boundaries they've created.
[…] Come, my friends
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
This conductor is a crook-smirked storyteller dressed in clothing unlike any worn by her passengers. Even among other seekers of uncomfortable truths, she finds herself welcome-but-apart. After all, she's just passing through this barren land of empty maps and unmarked junctions. To lead a train through it all takes a dedicated individual possessed of ambition, brass, and no small disregard for personal safety.
Her eyes smile, for she has traveled many paths and victories are to be celebrated. Her knife has three secret names. Her cabin is festooned with mementos from distant lands, all won in games of chance. Some passengers say these winnings include the train itself. Dinner is at 8, followed by a recitation of revenge psalms from the Smoke Hills.
The inhumanity of our ulterior, asocial, superficial world immediately finds its aesthetic form here, its ecstatic form. For the desert is simply that: an ecstatic critique of culture, an ecstatic form of disappearance.
A skeletal figure commands this train. Its features are obscured by a glass mask. From its constant lurking and low, sporadic moaning it would be easy to assume the conductor is cursed. The real curse is the human condition. Did you ever even leave the City by the Sea? All this hustle and toil could be a nocturnal quest to the heart of your cultural trauma or a game played on a board of ivory and horn. You may be an actor on a stage, held aloft by black-clad orphans while a statuesque assistant rattles a sheet of tin to create illusions of velocity and light.
But no. The dirt under your nails is real and so is the blood. This is a journey of existential alienation and rebirth. It is a clash of symbols, juxtaposing bleak reality with comic absurdity in a desperate search for meaning. Welcome to the desert of the real.
She attempted a smile. “Fairy tales always have a happy ending.”
He leaned back in his chair. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you are Rumplestiltskin or the Queen.”
Mr. Wumpus is an eggplant-shaped rabbit in a green velvet suit. When he's on the job – which seems like always – he tops his ensemble with a smart little conductor's cap so everyone knows who's in charge. With the help of his heavily annotated timetable and a flask of dandelion tea, the Director of Hoperations is the best there is at moving people from here and there to everywhere.
Although conducting such a strange train keeps Mr. Wumpus busy, he enjoys chatting with his passengers. Even if he doesn't have all the answers, he's always ready to lend a sympathetic ear or dash of folksy wisdom. At least until the springs in the trampoline car need oiling, then it's back to work with ol' Mr. Wumpus!
We're fumbling for a dream in the dark;
there is nothing there, we just believe.
We want a one-way ticket
to the far ends of the universe.
Wow!
The Starbright Express used to be a star… but so were black holes, darling. These days she's the top Arpeggio-class astroliner in her sector and 110% delighted to connect you with your distant dreams. What kind of future will you choo-choo-choose? Just climb aboard and you'll be on your way!
Music is the universal language of the Solar Frontier, where even a space train can be a virtual pop sensation. Although her fans are scattered like cosmic dust, Starla (as her friends call her) keeps on dancing. The sky hasn't been the limit in a long, long time.
I used to think sincerity was valuable… and that it was the one and only way to change the world. But sincerity by itself changes nothing. Without power, one finds oneself merely depending upon others to live. I've taken enough risks to buy the power to change the world. That's how the world works.
A tall and charismatic gentleman who moves with impeccable grace, Duke Akira cuts a dashing figure as he strides through his train. He's always eager to get to know each of his passengers – after all, he prides himself on meeting their every need over the course of the long ride to Cerebos. Many find his attention flattering, at first.
It's only as the journey wears on that most travelers realize nothing that happens on the duke's train is outside his control, and that he has a way of making sure his passengers' choices work out to benefit himself more than anyone else. The most perceptive among them may begin to suspect that Akira was once a traveler much like themselves – and that he represents a vision of maturity that they may or may not want to emulate.
In the windows of the carriages pass a landscape, blurred into protean shapes. Jagged peaks thickening to walls, valleys fracturing into ravines, black pines melting into blasted plains. In the sky, the stars swarm, an infection of white, a thousand cataracted eyes. There is nothing human here, no vestige of man's influence. Only night, only blackness.
Grimlight is a nightmare-shaped person, mud seeping from clumsy seams and ragged cuffs. One burning eye peers from the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat. His low voice tells stories no one was supposed to ever know. Little by little, he sheds his disguise – slips off his shoes to reveal gnarled feet; doffs his hat to scratch at a head made of burlap; pulls off his shirt to show a maze of woven reeds, and a rotting heart throbbing within.
Grimlight knows the secrets of this country, and he brings you to where the mundane is peeled back, revealing what slithers beneath.
But now a strange disease affects me that I cannot withstand by courage, weapons or strength. Deep in my lungs a devouring fire wanders, feeding on my whole body. But Eurystheus, my enemy is well! Are there those then who can believe that the gods exist?
Old Ko is a tangle of arms and masks covered by a resplendent cloak, which rings with the collected fares of the dead. She runs the Metempsychosis Express between the refineries of the Shadowlands and the verdant Orgus Delta, where the bridges of Cerebos straddle the Worldsoul. With each cargo of refined soulstuff, the wheel of life turns anew.
Several passengers are not godlings or divine agents. They are scoundrels who refuse to relinquish their identities and return to the Worldsoul. They intend to pass through Cerebos for a second chance at life, the selfish clods! Or... heroes? Ugh. The worst.
Against all reason, you carry three touchstones. These objects define you and link you to your past. They may be ordinary or ornate, mass-produced or bespoke. No matter what your touchstone looks like or how it can be used, it's also a powerful totem. To lose this treasure is to lose yourself – at least for now.
Feel free to use strange sculptures or unexpected teeth you've discovered on your own journeys as inspiration.
Each of your three touchstones begins with a rank 1 Trait. A Trait is an element of your personality that is demonstrated by the touchstone. It can be a skill, attitude, relationship, ideology, or anything else that suggests how your traveler solves problems.
For more examples of touchstones and Traits, feel free to use rocks, sculptures, or teeth that have accumulated underneath your bed – or consult the Random Touchstones appendix.
There is no conclusive list of Traits or Trait categories, since they are generated during play. Some rules refer to Trait categories like “skill-focused” Traits. These ad hoc descriptions differentiate Traits that refer to one element of a character (such as their skills) from another (such as their emotional connections).
Traits may gain and lose ranks during play. A trait that loses all its ranks still exists, but its narrative potential has been tapped. For more information on how Traits are used, see Trait Checks.
Joyous! How is one to tell about joy? How to describe the citizens of Omelas?
A traveler's goal reveals why they were suffering in the City by the Sea and presents one active solution that may be possible in Cerebos. There are two ways to look at goals:
Before the First Leg of the journey, every player creates a goal for the traveler of the player sitting to their right. Display the goal on a folded piece of paper so all players except for the player whose traveler it describes can read it.
There's an excellent likelihood the history mentioned in this goal will return to haunt, challenge, or otherwise complicate their journey and that of the other travelers. Use this power wisely. If you're playing with an unfamiliar group, it's a good idea to specifically discuss your expectations regarding what's off-limits for secret goals. If a secret goal leads to discomfort during play, replace it with another one. Amnesia and unreliable narrators are part of every Cerebos game, so this kind of move is even supported by the fiction. Bonus!
One of the key experiences of Cerebos is discovering who your traveler was in the City by the Sea and how they use that knowledge to face their future. However, it can also be disorienting to learn the character you thought you were playing is actually someone vastly different. This vertiginous alienation isn't necessarily bad, but it's not for everyone. Be extra careful when considering a secret goal that invalidates aspects of a traveler that their player digs.
Consider a brave knight errant who discovers halfway to Cerebos they're an understudy at a medieval themed family restaurant. Some players enjoy that kind of reversal, while others would feel cheated: if they gave their character a broadsword, a tabard, and spiked pauldrons, they're going to be a knight errant, by gum! As above, so below: communication is key.
Goals are protected by literary amnesia. At the journey's start, no player knows why their traveler is riding the rails. The travelers may have forgotten as well, but may also be unwilling to admit the truth. After each flashback a traveler takes a step toward understanding their past.
Inevitably, character backgrounds contradict one another. For example, Saturnalia may have left the City by the Sea because it's fast-paced and drowning in technology, while the Bluebody Pierrot escaped from its clock-smashing luddites by the skin of her teeth. The two ideas are not impossible to reconcile. Both backgrounds are personal interpretations of a complicated city.
Moreover, Cerebos is a story, a rumor, and a hope. Until travelers reach its gates, there's no certainty the city can help anybody attain their goals. Many travelers have been forced to adapt after their promised land turns out different than expected.
Here are some sample goals:
The price of the future is that you need to leave the past, never to return. The Utopias we encounter on these imaginary island cities are thus ones that could have been; maps of forfeited pasts, just as much as potential futures.
Actions are the underlying physics of the world, but not its heart. Travelers can interact with the environment however they like without using an Action. However, these lesser actions don't add Momentum, reduce Damage, invoke flashbacks, or anything like that.
In other words, you don't need to be told, “Now is the part where you roleplay.” Always be role-playing. Talk to your fellow travelers, engage with the local color, and let your quirks be known. When you want to end your turn or leave a lasting impact on the world, it's time to pick up the dice and declare an Action.
Each round is divided into one Action per traveler, but time is flexible in the desert. An Action may take seconds or days.
The first round, the humblest player takes the first action. Play continues clockwise, although more footloose and fancy-free groups can ignore this rigid hegemony. In the next round, the traveler who took the second action goes first. Continue this pattern until everyone has had a chance to go first, at which point the humblest player goes first again.
The Piebald Sorcerer is about to pontificate further on the uses of bees when the conductor enters your car. “We're coming up on the Yinthuul Frontier, folks. There's a nice little way station at the plateau's base. The engineer's brother runs a churro stand there, so we're stopping. Stretch your legs and grab a bite while you've got the chance.”
Snap. Crack. Snap. Crack. The floor around the Buckram Witch is littered with detritus. Nadia peers over her seat at the older woman. “Why are you shelling those nuts, grandma? You got no teeth.” The Witch laughs at the stranger's cheek. “Help me out and I'll tell ya, little lady.” As they work, the Witch is not shelling peanuts on a dilapidated train, but back on the farm preparing for winter.
Since lunch, Temperance had been staring at the Hanged Man. Finally, she spoke. “Your jacket certainly is… unique.” Despite the sun bleaching and patches, it was the unmistakable crimson of the republican guard. “Time was, I'd shoot a man for wearing it in my presence.” She taps the bullet hanging from a chain around her neck. The Hanged Man flexed his lips in what was certainly not a smile. “I was wondering where that scar on my ass came from. What was it? Ten years ago? Twelve?”
The Misconductor holds their unfinished opera out to the Stone Child. “The person who wrote this was angry. Although I share their name, we are not one and the same.” The child reached tentatively for the work, which was the source of his curse. His cracked fingers touched paper for the barest second before velvet gloves snatched it back. “No,” swore the Misconductor. “It is not yet time for the final curtain.”
Iskandar slurped his soup. Wherever they were headed next, he would be ready.
“You would not tell from my worldly ways,” said the conductor as he poured the tea, “But I grew up near here. Just past the Caverns of Cosmic Plenitude, there is a small town called Mbogo. It is known for its stone rosework. The clocktower is like a bouquet exploding from the earth.”
“Once every year, the best sculptor climbs the tower with a stout lever and sends last year's carvings plummeting to the ground below. It is a bad time to visit unless you have a hard head.” He laughs, showing the tops of his molars. “But we will stop there until your illness has passed. It is like I say, every port in a storm!”
“You look tense.” Ming had followed the traveler since the pair escaped the City by the Sea, past the Coral Straits, far beyond the yurts of the mechanical dreamers. Even with a burning petard in each hand and her throat raw with vengeance, the traveler was in control. This should be no different.
“You think the dean would send his djinn this far, just to challenge your thesis? You must put the City and its scholars behind you!” She would comfort her friend, but the lie hurt. She had seen the djinn on the storm. She had heard the scraping of its knives.
Objects and words also have hollow places in which a past sleeps, as in the everyday acts of walking, eating, going to bed, in which ancient revolutions slumber. A memory is only a Prince Charming who stays just long enough to awaken the Sleeping Beauties of our wordless stories.
Flashbacks reveal travelers' lives from before they left the City by the Sea. Every traveler participating in a flashback is anchored by key touchstone. The key touchstone may no longer be in the traveler's possession, but the flashback should nevertheless reveal something about its importance to the traveler.
Each flashback is a short scene that guides a traveler toward discovering who they were and who they hoped to become on their journey to Cerebos. The first flash often hints at a traveler's ultimate goal; by the time the third flash arrives the traveler should know exactly who they were before they left the City by the Sea.
Flashbacks work best as conversations between several players and the GM (if applicable). Each player contributes characters, situations, or other details to the scene based on what they know about the travelers. Since the stars of the flashback are working with imperfect knowledge of their own pasts, they depend on the other players for context clues.
After the flashback is over, participants remember more about their pasts and establish forgotten Traits. Every player proposes a second Trait to add to the key touchstone(s). The player who called the flashback suggests last.
Some groups prefer a more organic method of suggesting Traits. It's perfectly all right to have an unstructured conversation rather than a formal vote as long as everyone is having a good time.
There is a moment of curiosity, even for those who have seen the play before, since in all probability they are about to view some newly arisen steel skeleton, some tower, or even some street which was not in yesterday's performance. And to one who had not been in the audience before—to some visitor from another land or another age—there could not fail to be at least a moment of wonder. What apocalypse is about to be revealed? What is its setting? And what will be the purport of this modern metropolitan drama?
Danger is the capacity for Events and Stops to negatively impact a traveler's journey. Danger ranges from 0 to 5 under normal circumstances, but modifiers can raise it even higher. In general, a Danger level of 1 or 2 is only a potential problem, such as inconvenient weather, light malaise, or unwelcoming locals. A low-Danger Stop isn't actively hostile, but contains enough small annoyances to make things interesting. At Danger Level 2, travelers are unable to take the Rest Stop Action.
Several low-Danger Events can combine to create uniquely uncomfortable circumstances. When the train reaches a Stop and the combined Danger level of all outstanding Events is greater than the number of travelers, increase the Stop's Danger by 2. The Events then resolve in whatever way makes narrative sense.
For example, the Absolution 405 megaliner is carrying three travelers across the sandworm hibernation grounds (Danger 1) while picking up satellite chatter from the Halcyon Days (Danger 1). To top it off, the air conditioning is on the fritz (Danger 2). As soon as the township of Lost July (a Danger 4 Stop) appears on the horizon, it's time for the travelers to reap the whirlwind. It turns out Lost July isn't just inhabited by dueling gangs of tech scavengers, it's also running low on water and satellite interference has just reactivated its long-dormant terraforming plant. Lost July is now at Danger level 6. Happy trails, pardners.
When travelers reduce an Event's Danger to 0, one of the travelers who interacted with the Danger level receives a keepsake. Likewise, when travelers leave a Stop with Danger level 0, one traveler who interacted with the Danger level receives a keepsake. In both cases, randomly determine which eligble traveler receives the keepsake.
Danger starts to become serious at level 3. We're talking direct challenges to life and limb in deadlier settings, and even in gentler milieus you're gonna have a bad time. If the Danger is greater than 2 when leaving a Stop, each traveler must make a Trait check to leave the Stop without incident.
His face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward.
Events are unexpected occurrences that add spice to the journey between Stops.
Roll on the Almanac each time two travelers experience flashbacks. Each traveler who flashes back counts as one instance. For example, if the Travesty and Goblin share a flashback to their days nicking copper wire in the City by the Sea it counts as two travelers. Likewise, if the Jamburglar has two flashbacks in a row it counts as two travelers. Anybody can make this roll. As a result, any traveler can influence the roll on Almanac with keepsakes or other powers.
Every Event has a Danger level and a keepsake, a reward for navigating the danger. The base Danger is determined by the Event's entry. If the travelers reduce an Event's Danger to 0, randomly determine which contributing traveler finds its keepsake.
When the train reaches a Stop, add together the Danger of all outstanding Events. If the total Danger is equal or greater than the number of travelers, increase the Stop's Danger by 2. The Events resolve in whatever way makes narrative sense and nobody receives the keepsake.
The Engage Event Train Action is available whenever at least one Event is present.
Trouble Hound stuck his head out the speeding train. Long strands of drool flapped from his mouth and spattered against the car's side. The rain from last night had transformed the desert into a jungle of verdant greens and fierce red fruits; the new colors streaming past were a shock after the endless brown-gray plain. He opened his mouth wider to welcome one of the fruits.
Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.
The train needs to refuel and give travelers time to comport themselves. Some cities tax goods that move through their territories. Perhaps the train stops at an oasis in the desert. This may be a good chance to stretch your legs. Everyone gets to take one Stop action. Go around in a circle (or a stranger geometry) and resolve the scenes.
Every Stop has an initial Danger level that ranges from 0 to 5 – or possibly higher, in certain circumstances. The Stop's Danger can be reduced by Trait checks made as part of Stop actions. If the travelers leave the Stop with a Danger of 0, a random traveler who interacted with the Danger receives a keepsake. A traveler doesn't need to succeed at raising or lowering the Danger to be eligible, but must have made an attempt.
If the Danger is greater than 2 after determining whether a traveler receives a keepsake, each traveler must make an additional Trait check to leave the Stop without incident. This roll is like a standard Trait check with two differences:
The travelers get back on the train and continue their journey no matter what happens, but they may take some bruises or learn a bitter truth in the process.
The view from inside the Cloud Organ was worth the climb. Gold Coin Spotted Leopard could see the settlement below. It had been constructed around a mountain of broken jars, as if its houses and people had spilled from the containers. Without their clay prisons, they grew wild and unchecked.
Wind rushed past him and up through the mountain's pipes. Above, the wind crystallized into music. It was almost like the convection ovens he once tended so fiercely. How had they fared since his escape? Ah, bother. Gold Coin Spotted Leopard set down his hammer and thought of home. He would catch up with the others later.
The Piper hadn't removed her shoes since the laces had fused back in the Hawuppus. Blade in hand, she considered her options. She could keep walking and let the leather mould to her feet, layer by painful layer, until it was fused with socks and flesh and damp. Or she could go for it.
With a decisive whoop, she sliced through the gordian tangle and vaulted into the pale pink water. Heat spread through her, concentrated on her emancipated feet. Crunched nerves uncoiled as pain gave way to relief. She wouldn't rest until reaching the gates of Cerebos, but a few minutes in the famed hot springs of Uco Tam were as vital to moving forward as boarding the train.
Day 47. I have arrived in the city of Geddis, which must produce all the ceramic horses on the continent, if not in the world. Full-bodied stallions stare at me from every room unused for business or respite. Smaller, but no less fierce equine gargoyles crowd the cornices of every storehouse. Local custom holds the animals to be protectors. Anyone who enters the city may not afterwards leave except by the governor's seal, a rule that has been passed since the train last visited.
While our conductor argues in vain with his charters and logs, I have addressed the issue in my own way. With a small bag of coin, I have hired the best forgery artist in Geddis to procure a mark of passage. While I wait for news of his success, I avail myself of a plate of local cheeses and a mug of tonc, a mild beverage composed of mare's milk and fermented berries. It is an acquired taste, but is said to be exported as far as the great city of Zun, where the people have blue skin and drink cold silver from vessels of horn and bone. If my forgery artist has a betrayer's bones, I may be forced to improvise.
The child swung once more at the caged star. Unlike the other revelers, her head was bare. Unprotected. Stellar flares scorched her face and she stumbled between each swing, half-blinded by the corona. Basket-headed uncles and cousins shouted boozy discouragement.
Earlier, when we had shared a flask of tea, she had told me of the festival. I laughed to think mortal nets could snare such a prize. Now, the only question was who would break it open to sup on its sweet goo.
I pushed through the crowd, unbuckling my mask as I went. It would do her more good than it had ever done me.
The finifex of the Galactica Exchange wore a green tuxedo, gold boots, and a daring blue kerchief. She tapped her datapad in time with an uptempo remix from the Outside Era, buying and selling six planets in the time it took Mercury Nine to cross the foyer. Don't you want to be free?
“Hallo, Spaceboy. What brings you to these parts? We don't get many visitors to our humble moon during the offseason.”
A montage of sights and sounds seared his neocortex, curling his toes in his space boots. His fingers beat a steady, nervous snare, grasping for an answer. The finifex's music seemed louder. This chaos is killing me. The Galactica Exchange could give him all the moondust he needed to power his Positronic Manifold. Moondust will cover you. All it would cost was his heart.
You take delight not in a city's seven or seventy wonders, but in the answer it gives to a question of yours.
A keepsake is a record of a memorable Stop, Event, or meal. Unlike a touchstone, which is central to a traveler's sense of self, a keepsake is transitory and situational. Touchstones are always physical, but keepsakes are flexible. A smooth rock rescued from a gutter, a newfound respect for musicians, or the scent of saffron clinging to one's clothes are all examples of keepsakes. Keepsakes show how the traveler changed the world and was changed in turn.
A traveler can carry as many keepsakes as they like. It's easy to think a stranger has less going on than you, but after a little time together on the rails it's clear they contain multitudes.
There are as many types of keepsakes as there are people multiplied by places and dreams. Each Stop and Event provides a unique keepsake. Common keepsake powers include:
Keepsakes modify the rules of the road in a variety of ways. Unless otherwise specified, a traveler can only use a keepsake to reroll their own dice. Some keepsakes provide travelers with a Trait. These Traits are not attached to any touchstone, so they don't generate Momentum. If a traveler loses a keepsake, they're unable to use the attached Trait.
It may not always be clear how a keepsake helps a traveler in a given situation. This is an exercise best left to the players.
The population of the city came out to meet the members of our party, and on all sides greetings and questions were exchanged, but not a soul greeted me as no one there was known to me. I was so affected by my loneliness that I could not restrain my tears and wept bitterly, until one of the pilgrims realized the cause of my distress and coming up to me greeted me kindly and continued to entertain me with friendly talk until I entered the city.
Rolling dice makes numbers go up or down. No future is set in stone – and even if it were, stones are not incapable of change.
In many dice games, rolling two sixes on 2d6 is known as rolling boxcars. Rolling boxcars has no special effect in Cerebos, but any player in possession of a wooden train whistle is invited to toot it two or three times in observance of the rules of the rail.
The rules of the rail also pertain to dice stacking. Any player who stacks more than three dice atop one another enters the Compact of Babel. All entrants to the Compact are required under pain of dishonor to celebrate the tallest tower with compliments, good cheer, and a porringer of warm drink accorded to the tower's architect at the end of the game. However, if an entrant's tower falls, whether through hubris or maleficence, they are barred from another attempt until the next full moon.
As invisible as all theatrical machinery, the locomotive organizes from afar all the echoes of its work. Even if it is discreet and indirect, its orchestra indicates what makes history, and, like a rumor, guarantees that there is still some history. There is also an accidental element in it. Jolts, brakings, surprises arise from this motor of the system.
It not only divides spectators and beings, but also connects them; it is a mobile symbol between them, a tireless shifter, producing changes in the relationships between immobile elements.
When conflict occurs, roll 2d6 and consult the Trait Check table. You can permanently spend a rank in a Trait to reroll one die. As long as a Trait still has ranks, it can be drawn upon multiple times per Trait check. You can also draw on multiple different Traits to diversify your approach. If a Trait's rank is reduced to zero in this way, don't remove it. Traits without any ranks still exist. They're just resting their eyes.
| 2–5 | Setback |
You do not succeed. Take one Damage. |
|---|---|---|
| 6–8 | Partial Success |
You're making progress, but there are complications. Maybe you're pushing too hard, maybe you're just unlucky. The Danger decreases by 1, but there's also a cost. Gain two Momentum or one Damage. It's your choice – but you can't choose to gain Momentum if the Trait is attached to a keepsake, if you've given away the related touchstone, or if you roll without using a Trait. The GM (or your group) may decide that narrative consequences, such as losing a fellow traveler's trust, replace the Damage or Momentum gain. |
| 9–10 | Success |
Nothing fancy here. You did it! The Danger decreases by 1. |
| 11–12 | Inspired Success! |
Incredible! You approach the problem with a synthesis between who you once were and who you're becoming. As a result, the Danger decreases by 2. |
Rolling doubles after using a Trait to reroll earns one Momentum on the attached touchstone. Drawing too heavily on who you were limits who you can become.
If you've already given away a touchstone, you can use its attached Traits with no risk of gaining further Momentum. Your memories blossom as you explore new applications for old talents.
The player who rolls the dice narrates the results of their Trait check, but other players are welcome to make suggestions. Many groups prefer to have a GM narrate their Setbacks and Partial Successes to add an extra element of surprise to the story.
Working together is possible in a narrative sense, but there aren't any rules to govern team-ups. No matter how many friends you make on your journey, there's a point where you're going to be alone. This isn't necessarily the cold, unconnected loneliness of the miser in his tilted garret. It's also the unencumbered responsibility for one's actions.
Working together helps in some situations. Everyone may agree in a realistic game that one person, no matter how dedicated, cannot lift a sandstone obelisk. Two people trying the same task have a chance, but only one of them makes the Trait check.
The catalog of forms is infinite. For as long as forms have yet to find their city, new cities will continue to be born. The end of the city begins at the point where forms exhaust their variety and come apart.
You cannot step twice into the same desert. The wind fluctuates and travelers change. Like sands in the hourglass, so are the days of our lives. Make the most of them!
At the start of each journey, the players choose the contents of the Almanac and the Atlas to determine what's between them and Cerebos. The Almanac consists of six Event tables and the Atlas consists of six Stop Tables. The handout “The Almanac and the Atlas”, distributed with this book, contains all sorts of options. The tables have different Danger levels and tones, so go with whatever feels the most appealing to the group.
Number the Stop and Event tables in your Almanac and Atlas from 1–6. On the journey, you will at times be directed to roll on the Almanac or Atlas. First, roll 1d6 to determine which table to roll. Next, roll another 1d6 to see which entry on that table you encounter.
For example, the Dreamline Express is coming up on a Stop. Jenn rolls on the Atlas. The group wanted to make a whistle-stop tour of unknown architecture, so their Atlas consists of Underground (1), Cities of Inspiration (2), Libraries and the Like (3), Lost Aviaries (4), Once-Sacred Spaces (5), and Relics and Reclamations (6). Jenn rolls 1d6 and gets a 1 – Underground. Next, she rolls another 1d6 and gets a 4. She consults entry #4 on the Underground table. Next stop, the Ophidian Exchange!
If you ever drop your keys into a river of molten lava, let 'em go, because man, they're gone.
Sacrificing a touchstone is a moment of personal transformation. Giving up such an important talisman requires a roll, which cannot be affected by Traits. Every two points of Momentum on the item (round down) forces a reroll of the lowest die. Rerolling in this way does not reduce the touchstone's Momentum, though the roll's outcome might.
| 2–6 | Change |
You break the shackles of your past and do what needs to be done. Give the touchstone to someone who needs it or rid yourself of it in another way that brings closure. Gain one Contemplation, remove all Momentum from the touchstone, and reduce all attached Traits by one rank. |
|---|---|---|
| 7–9 | Ugly Break |
You get rid of the touchstone as above, but gain one Momentum on a different touchstone. If this is your final touchstone, get rid of it and take one Damage. |
| 10–12 | Stasis |
The path is prepared, but you are not ready. The touchstone gains one Momentum. |
This roll cannot be made until after a meaningful scene with the touchstone. This doesn't have to be anything as mechanical as a flashback, but there should be narrative weight behind the decision to huck that bust of your beloved off a cliff.
You can take one Damage to reroll one die, as long as another traveler steps in to help. This action doesn't need to be an act of kindness, as long as you're conflicted about giving up the item. Wrestling over a cursed amulet is fair game.
How many travellers have I known? I cannot count.
How many corners of the earth? I cannot tell.
Now that my wanders east and west are done,
There is but one last corner left: my grave.
What happens if you fail at something during a Stop? What's the risk? Mainly, it's in your heart. Sure, the body can falter and fall apart, but you've already shown yourself to be an engine of willpower. You can keep it together long enough to get where you're headed.
A traveler who receives four Damage before the Final Stop decides whether to limp onward or end their journey immediately. Travelers who continue are unable to enter Cerebos or take Actions, but can otherwise take part in the story. If their journey has reached its end, you're welcome to step into the role of another passenger or member of the train's staff. However, as they are not travelers they are unable to take Actions.
A Seeker who takes four Damage wasn't the true Seeker. Narrative is an imprecise science, after all. Each player rolls 1d6 and adds the number of flashbacks they've experienced. The player who rolls highest experiences a flashback and becomes the Seeker. In the case of a tie, the traveler wearing the most distinctive clothing becomes the Seeker. Truly, the world works in mysterious ways.
The word desert conjures images of hostile foreboding environments – desiccated and scorching hot by day and freezing cold at night. But these images are not entirely correct. Deserts are areas of extreme topography, trivial seasonal precipitation, little animal life, and persistent wind […] Asian deserts are a heterogeneous lot comprised of features varying from stony plains bisected by glaciated mountain ranges to great sand seas.
During the Second Leg of the journey, one of the travelers becomes the Seeker. This apotheosis marks the Seeker as the story's central character, but don't let that hierarchy hold you back from learning more about the other travelers! Even though they become Saints and Demons, they're still traveling for their own purposes.
Saints and Demons are foils for the protagonist, but they're also drivers of new discoveries. Although the Seeker's reality exerts powerful pressure on the story, their ticket to the future is still blank. Remembering your secret goal is a different kettle of soup than knowing what to do about it.
Reality is less flexible in the Second Leg than the First Leg. Consider the Seeker's secret goal, past actions, and personal aesthetic when describing Stops and Events. Look for chances to reference characters or situations from the Seeker's past and test their convictions in new and exciting ways.
Travelers who enjoy tales of grief and woe are encouraged to use the Second Leg to twist the knife. Throw the Seeker into doubt as their newly discovered truths erode beneath them. Cozier travelers can use the Second Leg as an opportunity to develop interpersonal bonds. Now that everybody knows a little something about who they are, they can start developing closer relations.
Some wish to leave their venal native skies,
Some flee their birthplace, others change their ways,
Astrologers who've drowned in Beauty's eyes,
Tyrannic Circe with the scent that slays.
Not to be changed to beasts, they have their fling
With space, and splendour, and the burning sky,
The suns that bronze them and the frosts that sting
Efface the mark of kisses by and by.
The first traveler to experience three flashbacks becomes the Seeker. If more than one traveler reaches lucky number three simultaneously, the most indecisive traveler takes the crown. This method may have some inherent flaws, so feel free to roll 1d6 to break any ties. The other travelers have been Saints or Demons all along! Saints aid the Seeker in remaining true to the past; this can lead to trouble. Demons aid the Seeker in leaving the past behind; this can also lead to trouble.
The Seeker can look at their secret goal. You know what you were intending to do when you set out, and you know why. Do you still feel that way? If so, swell. You've tested your will under sun and adversity. The path ahead may be physically perilous, but ideologically sound. If Cerebos isn't offering the goods, services, or social climate that you need, you might have to start tempering your expectations. On the other hand, if you're starting to rethink your original goal, breaking away may take a powerful act of will – or friendship.
The monkey fiend was bold enough to rebel against Heaven,
But was subdued by the Tathagata's hand.
He endures the months and years, drinking molten copper for his thirst,
And blunts his hunger on iron pellets, serving his time.Suffering the blows of Heaven, he undergoes torment,
Yet even in the bleakest time a happy fate awaits.
If some hero is ready to struggle for him,
One year he will go to the West in the service of the Buddha.
You will not find fulfillment in Cerebos. Maybe you're not ready to stop running; maybe the myth you set out to find was just that. Regardless, reaching your original goal just isn't in the cards for now. Doubt gnaws at you. It's even conceivable you're a metaphysical being intended to influence a decision of cosmic significance.
At this point your purpose (knowingly or not) is to guide the Seeker on their journey. If your assistance tips the scales, there may even be something in it for you – see Endgame.
Travelers are free to determine whether they are a Saint or a Demon with the following restrictions:
Here in Um-Helat there is no hunger: not among the people, and not for the migrating birds and butterflies when they dip down for a taste of savory nectar. And so farmers are particularly celebrated on the Day of Good Birds.
Saints and Demons can create a new Stop or Event that isn't on any random table. This is called a Revelation. These occurrences reflect the guide's worldview or shed further light on the Seeker's journey. As a result, Saints and Demons have a lot of influence over Cerebos itself.
Revelations cost Momentum. In other words, a Revelation gives you a chance to spend all of the Momentum you picked up earlier in your journey.
| Stop |
After everyone's had their turn, the train reaches a Danger 3 Stop. You GM it! |
0 Momentum |
|---|---|---|
| Event |
You read the signs. A Danger 3 Event occurs. You GM it! |
0 Momentum |
| Force Change |
A specific Trait doesn't work against the Revelation |
1 Momentum |
|---|---|---|
| Danger |
Per point of increase or decrease |
1 Momentum |
| Keepsake |
Add a keepsake |
1 Momentum |
| Saintbane |
Exceptional Successes rolled by Saints against this Revelation become Successes |
1 Momentum |
| Stop |
After everyone's had their turn, the train reaches a Danger 3 Stop. You GM it! |
0 Momentum |
|---|---|---|
| Event |
You read the signs. A danger 3 Event occurs. You GM it! |
0 Momentum |
| Honor the Past |
A specific Trait gains +1 immediately after encountering this Revelation |
1 Momentum |
|---|---|---|
| Danger |
Per point of increase or decrease |
1 Momentum |
| Keepsake |
Add a keepsake |
1 Momentum |
| Demonbane |
Exceptional Successes rolled by Demons against this Revelation become Successes |
1 Momentum |
He would think happily of his young brother Yilit taking his place in Marob and never go back and find out what had really happened. The two rivers were between him and the past. Alfeida would be between him and the past. He had been a traveler, but now he was coming to a stop. And it will be a happy place for him, thought Halla, but I—I have not come to a place where my traveling should stop. There is no reason here that I can find to keep me. And I am still myself, and what tricks at all did All-Father play on me?
After each guide has shared a Revelation or waived the opportunity, the train pulls into its final Stop: Cerebos, the Crystal City. Cerebos is a Danger 2 Stop. Its keepsake is the memories you made along the way.
If you're playing without a GM, the non-Seeker who has had the least to do during the game becomes a temporary GM for this Stop. This player may waive the honor. If you do have a GM, they've probably been plotting the truth about Cerebos for the past several hours. Either way, Saints and Demons can look at their secret goals. They will not find what they seek here.
It's the end of the line. The Seeker should have a strong sense whether Cerebos is their destination. Will they be able to fulfill their goal? Was it all a sham? Regardless, as soon as the final round of Stop Actions is complete, the Seeker must make a momentous choice: will they accomplish their goal in Cerebos and attain their heart's desire?
You've guided the Seeker to the Crystal City, but what of your own story? Will it continue? It depends on the lessons you've learned and the influence you've had on the Seeker.
First, the Seeker decides which argument is the most persuasive: the Saint's path of steadfast stability or the Demon's uncertainty and change. Each traveler who argued for the Seeker's final choice receives a +1 bonus on their epilogue roll.
The epilogue roll starts with 2d6, but add 1d6 for each point of unspent Momentum. Add together the two lowest results. Each point of Contemplation adds 1 to the total. If the Seeker chose your path, add 1 to the total.
| 2–5 | Despair |
This is as far as you can go. You've imparted your wisdom to another: hopefully they fare better than you. Saints: Your body falls away. Your final breath floats up into the haze that surrounds the shining walls. Once a month, early in the morning, the haze flows through the streets in a thick river of mist. Children and the weak-willed are discouraged from breathing it in, while mystics and artists have made it an inspirational rite. Demons: All moisture escapes your body. Your meat is eaten by the crows. All that remains is a pillar of salt outside the city gates. Someday it will be part of a stone forest, a testament to Seekers who tried and failed. Later, during the Winter of Tightened Belts, it will season an apostate's lunch. |
|---|---|---|
| 6–11 | Walking Wounded |
Your role as a guide has changed you. You gain a new goal, which modifies your previous one. Contentment is a ways away, but it can't be said that you haven't grown. |
| 12+ | Contentment | Huh! You're actually in a good place. That's not half bad. This journey was good for you. Next time, you'll be the hero for sure! |
Whether your companions stood or fell, you've made it. After the Saints and Demons have handled their epilogues, it's time for the main event. Is Cerebos what you were looking for all along? Can you reconcile your inner voice with the wicked world? It's time to find out.
For the epilogue roll start with 2d6, but add 1d6 for each point of Momentum. Add together the two highest results. Subtract 2 from the final roll for each point of Contemplation.
| 7 or less | Self-Actualization |
You're able to see your past for what it was and adapt based on the reality of the present. Whether you follow your original goal or choose a different path, you've gained vital knowledge from your journey and emerged from the crucible ready for the future. |
|---|---|---|
| 8 | Building Success |
The you who left the City by the Sea remains, but continues along the path of lasting growth. A major element of your past continues to hinder you, but you can add a major twist. Maybe you delay a reckoning until you've mastered new knowledge, or you're able to share an unshakable burden with a new friend. |
| 9+ | Failure |
You're unable to slip the yoke of memory. If you've decided to follow your original goal, one of your core assumptions is incorrect. Your fiction is unable to adapt to reality, and your journey leaves you worse than you began. If you've committed to abandoning your goal, it's only a brief remission. Some people, when they get on that train, aren't ever going to stop riding. The horizon remains in the distance, running onward, ever out of reach. |
Cerebos is inspired and informed by stories that have come before it. Here's a partial list of its inspirations and how they might inform your own games. For more information on any of these titles, whisper their names into a sack of imperfect pebbles. Leave the sack in a well along with your love, your anger, and all of your sorrow. Finally, consult your school library.
These titles cover a lot of genres and formats. They're a mix of lengthy epics, pleasant larks, and crunchy critical theory. Together they form a map of the territory. The number of 
markers next to each inspiration indicates the relative difficulty of the text.
Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino As Kublai Khan's Mongol empire crumbles, Marco Polo regales the khan with stories of fantastic cities. They're hazy, beautiful places like Thekla, whose blueprints are the stars, or Clarice, which is made of fragments of great disasters. Cerebos is a chance to visit the book's cities-as-metaphor and have a meal with their residents.
Librarian Nancy Pearl uses four primary doors to recommend new books: character, place, plot, and words (language/ideas). If RPGs follow this model, their doors would be character, setting, plot, and atmosphere. Cerebos is a chance to celebrate Calvino's focus on place and ideas.
Kino's Journey—The Beautiful World— Kino is a traveler who vows to spend no more than three days anywhere she goes. She observes the beauty and danger of each civilization before moving on, accompanied by a small armory and her talking motorcycle friend. Each city in the manga and anime series is a chance for a new story: Kino learns something new wherever she goes, but it's never as straightforward as the term “moral” suggests.
Galaxy Express 999 Each episode of this classic anime takes Tetsuro and Matel to a new planet on the Galaxy Express 999 space train. Tetsuro learns about humanity and himself as he travels across the Sea of Stars to the Planet Promethuem, which builds robotic bodies that solve everyone's problems.
The Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum A classic narrative structure in a classic novel. Four travelers (and a little dog) travel from one fantastic location to another. Some GMs would call these locales “set pieces” or “Stops”. The travelers learn about themselves, overcome adversity, and are changed by the journey.
The Travels of Ibn Battuta by Ibn Battuta Ibn Battuta traveled the medieval world from 1325 to 1354, ranging from Morocco to China. While many of the details of his accounts are thought to be compiled from contemporaries' reports, there's no doubt the man was a world-class traveler. The resulting work (A Gift to Those Who Contemplate the Wonders of Cities and the Marvels of Travelling) is a masterpiece of travel literature that explores the people and places of northern Africa, the Middle East, and southern Asia.
The most exciting part of Ibn Battuta's journey is his scope. Visiting new lands consists of aches and paperwork, new cuisine and esteemed matters of state. Memorable road stories operate in many registers, often switching from the prosaic to the sublime without warning. The Picador edition of the travelogue, edited by Tim Mackintosh-Smith, is excellent for quick dips of inspiration or lengthier reading.
Journey to the West by Wu Cheng'en Cerebos stories benefit from short, episodic scenes and longer character arcs. Travelers demonstrate their growth during Stops and Events, but travel ever onward. Likewise, Tang Sanzang and his disciples are tested time and again on their pilgrimage, mixing high adventure with insights into Buddhist truths.
The Foreign Language Press edition translated by W J F Jenner isn't always the most spirited reading, but like Son Wukong's As-You-Will Gold-Banded Cudgel it's got weight and style.
Six-String Samurai Pretty much just The Wizard of Oz with martial arts, dueling musicians, and Windmill People.
Ribbon Drive There is a comic created by Tumblr user stuffman about artists' habit of negatively comparing their creations to others' (e.g. Cerebos: The Crystal City and Ribbon Drive, Avery Alder's poignant road trip RPG). A sad stick figure compares a simple cake to a more elegant one and comments, “aw man that guy's cake is way better than mine”. I hope the second panel also applies here: a member of the audience walks up to the cakes and excitedly exclaims, “HOLY SHIT! TWO CAKES!”
Starlight Express A musical journey through space is going to be a flashy, melodramatic trip. Andrew Lloyd Webber's celebration of anthropomorphic racing trains may be the kick travelers need to realize they are the starlight. The show has gone through several iterations over the years, but the wild energy, earnest emotions, and stylized patchwork costumes are constant.
The Motion Demon by Stefan Grabinski The Motion Demon, The Perpetual Passenger, and The Siding are standouts in this collection of train-based speculative fiction from an era when trains were the expression of high technology.
Railsea by China Mieville Track down the UK edition for a look at what a session of Cerebos with the Adventure! conductor could be. A youth is perched atop an Art Deco locomotive, harpoon set for trouble. The train speeds away from an ivory mega-mole that's chewing the train's rear cars in its big ol' mouth. Bold reds and blues and yellows scream motion and light. Chapter two begins, A meat island! The carcase loomed.
Even with a different cover, Railsea can be an excellent Cerebos inspiration. Much like Jacques Lob and Jean-Marc Rochette's Snowpiercer, Railsea takes place in an inhospitable wasteland where fast-moving trains are the surest path to survival. If your engine aesthetic leans toward rusty junkyards, endless plains of intersecting tracks, and the dangers of unfettered capitalism, this will be the trainbound post-apocalypse for you.
Railhead by Philip Reeve Space trains are an impractical fantasy. It's part of their appeal. In Railhead and its sequels, Reeve presents one vision of trains in space, predicated on jump gates and well-shielded rolling stock. As in Cerebos, strange vistas and character-driven shenanigans complicate and extol interplanetary travel.
Fans may also be interested in Reeve's Hungry City Chronicles, which feature mobile cities rolling around a post-apocalyptic landscape and chowing down on their weaker brethren. Traction cities work as Events harrying the train as well as Stops.
Infinity Train If Cerebos took place entirely on the train, it would be very similar to this show. Travelers on the Infinity Train pass through a seemingly endless series of whimsical and unsettling cars, each of which is a world of its own. Along the way they experience flashbacks, learn about life, and decode the mysteries of their glowing tattoos.
Sunless Skies by Failbetter Games The space trains of the High Wilderness are grittier than the ones that fly alongside the Starbright Express, but they get into some interesting scrapes. Look out for localized temporal anomalies, dying suns, and deep space claustrophobia. Each port is a self-contained story, but the influence they have on travelers is far-reaching.
Where the Water Tastes Like Wine In Good Shepherd Entertainment's America, trains are the chariots of myth. They're a boon to the slow-walkin' traveler, who's submerged into the nation's psychogeography after a bum deal with a talking wolf. As the traveler shares their stories with flappers and pioneers, hippies, cowboys, and forgotten soldiers, they learn deeper, often contradictory truths about all they've observed.
Three Days in a Border Town by Jeff Vandermeer Many of the cities in Cerebos – and its inspirations – are monocultures designed for short, punchy visits. Real cities are far more complex: overlapping cultures and subcultures interact with one another, sometimes only sharing physical proximity. In this story, Vandermeer presents the city as a sinister agent of assimilation. There are, of course, other cities with different goals.
Railway Navigation and Incarceration by Michel de Certeau Certeau views rail travel as a rational, regulated purgatory where travelers can only rest, reason, and dream. Obviously he never took the 25:15 to Mynamoaca or had to chase off a business of razor-fanged baggage toads with a cast-iron umbrella, but he has a point. Mass transit benefits from order, and there are worse forms of incarceration than a fully-stocked dining car. The push-and-pull between the order of the idealized railroad and the wildness of individual journeys is fertile ground for new life.
Walking in the City is Certeau's most influential essay and full of amazing phrases, but it's dense. English majors looking for a topic are welcome to contrast Certeau's view of behavioral and semantic poaching within his totalizing notion of “the city” with Cerebos's Seeker. Consider: These practitioners make use of spaces that cannot be seen […] The paths that correspond in this intertwining, unrecognized poems in which each body is an element signed by many others, elude legibility […] The networks of these moving, intersecting writings compose a manifold story that has neither author nor spectator, shaped out of fragments of trajectories and alterations of spaces: in relation to representations, it remains daily and indefinitely other.
The Arrival by Shaun Tan A migrant leaves his family and must make sense of an unfamiliar city. The surreal, disorienting illustrations communicate a touching blend of alienation and hope.
My Winnipeg Winnipeg is a real place, but Maddin's documentary blends the fantastical with the mundane to lay bare the dreams of a city. This is the side of the city travelers wish to see.
Imaginary Cities by Darran Anderson Anderson's catalog of urban dreams and architectural oddities are excellent inspiration for creating your own Stops and Events. It's a great book to explore at a leisurely pace, getting lost in ruminations on cities and the nature of travel.
Sunless Sea by Failbetter Games Each port in the vast Unterzee is a Stop. They're little points of light surrounded by dangerous, lonely terrain. Refuel your ship, fill your hold with stories, and cast off once again into the darkness.
Transverse City by Warren Zevon Zevon's 1989 concept album about a postmodern, possibly post-apocalyptic city. It's not a great soundtrack for many of Cerebos's conductors, but it's excellent inspiration for cities of loneliness and alienation.
Concerning the Unchecked Growth of Cities by Angélica Gorodischer Cities are not static, but fantastic city stories are filled with homogenizing monikers such as “The City Eternal”, “The Land Where Everybody Wore White”, or “The Living Machine”. Sometimes these titles are political dreams, simplifying masks for complicated networks of culture and control. Other times they're a tempting shorthand. Look for ways to signify time's effect on each Stop's changing fortunes, shifting demographics, and community goals.
Signs of the Sojourner This deck-building conversation quest by Echodog Games leads the player from city to city in a postcrash trade caravan. Each stop has a strong sense of place thanks to the buildings, landscape, and vignettes shared by talkative residents. As in Cerebos (and, you know, life), travelers are changed by who they meet.
Revolutionary Girl Utena
Students at the surreal Ohtori Academy place great value on their possessions and the memories they represent, but is that really such a good idea? This 39-episode anime covers a lot of ground, so it's worth watching the first few episodes before passing judgement.
Django Keepsakes don't need to be as eye-catching as the coffin Django drags through the desert in this 1966 Western, but there's something to be said for making a bold statement. Is that all that's weighing him down? Deep.
Tarkus by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer Much of Cerebos was written to Emerson, Lake, & Palmer, Blue Öyster Cult, and Tangerine Dream. Prog rock and early electronica don't own the patent on noodly meditations about self, mechanization, truth, control, and estrangement, but they fit pretty dang well.
Your endless journey across the desert of the unreal may not be scored by synths, but save a thought for Tarkus, the oppidan cyber-armadillo who was born from a volcano and fought across a wasteland of bones.
H.P. Lovecraft's Dream Cycle Lovecraft's Dreamlands stories, including The Quest of Iranon and The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, often feature single-minded questers traveling to fantastical cities. Jason Bradley Thompson's The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath & Other Stories captures many of the “indescribable” and “incomprehensible” denizens and vistas in evocative black and white.
The Dream Cycle isn't as racist as some of Lovecraft's other works, but does deal in pulpy orientalism. Kij Johnson's The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe is a more contemporary take on the Dreamlands. For a more overt refutation of Lovecraft's popular themes, and a celebration of cosmopolitan city life, check out N.K. Jemisin's The City We Became.
Piazza with Apollo and Ariadne by Giorgio de Chirico De Chirico's visions of piazzas, mannikins, and stone heads all speak to the symbol-rich alienation of journey through the psychogrit desert. For other examples of this style, check out The Red Tower, Piazza d'Italia, and The Disquieting Muses. For more disquieting, whimsical works of visual inspiration check out De Chirco's Surrealist contemporaries, including Max Ernst (Ubu Imperator, A Week of Kindness) and Remedios Varo (Embroidering the Earth's Mantle, Exploring the Sources of the Orinoco River).
The Fall (2006) While the movie is a crackling good yarn on its own merits, Roy's story-in-a-story speaks most directly to Cerebos scholars. The massive desert, towering architecture, and iconic character designs are strong hooks for symbolic meaning.
@MagicRealismBot This Twitter account provides fully automated whimsy. The prompts it generates are fuel for travelers, Stops, and beautiful dreams.
Ryuutama Travelers in the world of Ryuutama are protected by four dragons. Each dragon modifies the rules of play to favor a certain genre while giving the GM a fiction suit for inhabiting the story. Mr. Wumpus would make a good dragon!, now that I think about it…
Kotodama Heavy Industries' English-language edition of Okada Atsuhiro's table-top RPG is chockablock full of inspirational art and advice on celebrating fictional travel as a unique experience.
Kaiba Literary amnesia is a load-bearing conceit in Cerebos. In Kaiba, a 12-episode anime directed by Masaaki Yuasa, frequent amnesia is one of the consequences of the technological extraction of memories. When the inner self becomes externalized as shining blobs, a heist to steal them back becomes liberation. Alternatively, you can spin it postmodern and focus on how every being is a swirling intersection of a myriad competing memories.
We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.
To select a random touchstone, roll d666 – that is, roll a d6 three times, reading the first roll as the “hundreds” place, the second roll as the “tens” place, and the final roll as the “ones” place. This generates a number from 111 to 666; read down the left-hand column of the following pages until you find that number, and that's your touchstone. Re-roll if you get a number that anyone (including yourself) has already rolled, the touchstone hints at themes that are unwelcome in your game, or you're feeling especially contrary.
Alternatively, you can decide on the general nature of the touchstones you want your traveler to have, then find a suitable sub-table and roll a single d6 to select one of its entries. For example, if your traveler must carry a hat, a musical instrument, and an improbably large object, you'd make one roll on each of sub-tables 32 – Hats, Fancy; 44 – Musical Instruments; and 34 – Improbably Large Objects. If you go this route, avoid choosing a sub-table that another player has already used.
Finally, each random touchstone comes with an example Trait. Feel free to use the Trait as printed or as a springboard for your own ideas. Rationalizing an unlikely combination of touchstones and Traits can lead to some truly memorable characters.
| 111 | A cardboard box filled with migratory seabird hatchlings | Friend to All Creatures |
|---|---|---|
| 112 | A backpack-mounted beehive dripping with jade honey | Full of Bees |
| 113 | A hibernating century armadillo | Lorekeeper |
| 114 | A turquoise-shelled desert tortoise | Steadfast |
| 115 | A long-suffering goldfish | Vehicle Maintenance |
| 116 | A cricket in a matchstick cage | Voice Like a Bell |
| 121 | A weeping mirror | Just One of Those Faces |
|---|---|---|
| 122 | A lapis lazuli tablet of proto-law stored in a cedar box | Modern Problems, Classic Solutions |
| 123 | A silver mirror that doesn't reflect your eyes | Occult Insight |
| 124 | A marble tablet inscribed with gold hieroglyphs | Unearned Confidence |
| 125 | A heavy iron hammer inscribed “To the fairest” | Unstable |
| 126 | A monkey's paw preserved in amber | Walking, Talking Cautionary Tale |
| 131 | A sandwich board advertising an apocalypse | Heretical Certitude |
|---|---|---|
| 132 | A mechanical turtle shell stocked with all the amenities | Loaded for Bear |
| 133 | A bulletproof vest that has seen better days | Protector |
| 134 | A bronze centurion's helmet with a red crest | The Art of War |
| 135 | A bright yellow hazmat suit | The Danger is Still Present |
| 136 | Professor Ponderous's Patented Force Field Belt | The Respect of Fools |
| 141 | A painting of three pheasants | Failed Novelist |
|---|---|---|
| 142 | A filigreed lantern containing a bird skeleton | Haruspicy |
| 143 | A portrait of a noble family painted in mold and verdigris | Morbid Inspiration |
| 144 | A miniature easel holding a mirror | My Greatest Creation |
| 145 | A bonsai lake with a small island in the center | Preternatural Calm |
| 146 | A bust of a grimacing woman with an unfinished nose | Unobserved Malice |
| 151 | An urn filled with ashes, bones, and wildflower seeds | Better Done Than Perfect |
|---|---|---|
| 152 | The skull of a lizard that should not exist | Cryptozoology |
| 153 | Clothing made of white ash | Dancing Between the Flames |
| 154 | A swirl of ash and embers in your footsteps | Deferred Rage |
| 155 | A femur with a leather-wrapped grip | Impact! |
| 156 | A small duffle bag overflowing with reptile bones | Third-Generation Soapmaker |
| 161 | A parasitic yearbook | Forensics Club Survivor |
|---|---|---|
| 162 | A 600-page introduction to Humanetics: The Arisen Self | Library and Information Science |
| 163 | A heavily annotated travel guide in an unknown language | Linguist |
| 164 | A notebook filled with slant rhymes | Road Poet |
| 165 | A safe made from a hollowed-out prayer book | The Power of Love |
| 166 | A well-used copy of The Sidereal Science of ESP | Veteran of 1,000 Psychic Wars |
| 211 | A sturdy poncho with interior pockets | Body of Lies |
|---|---|---|
| 212 | A monogrammed silk ascot (cranberry and azure) | Fake It Till You Make It |
| 213 | Slick black sunglasses | Protective Sarcasm |
| 214 | A patchwork jacket | Steady Hands |
| 215 | A rumpled tan trenchcoat | Sufficient Snacks |
| 216 | A too-small, fashionable shirt with puffy sleeves | Swashbuckling |
| 221 | A black steel cleaver with an wave-patterned edge | A Blade of Compassion |
|---|---|---|
| 222 | A pearl-handled oyster knife | Amphibious Lifestyle |
| 223 | An enamel stock pot containing 12th-generation stew | Approachable |
| 224 | A granite mortar and pestle that smell like chili and lime | Hearth Wisdom |
| 225 | A long-handled iron ladle that rings like a bell | Soup's On |
| 226 | An exclusive shrimp fork | Tastemaker |
| 231 | An unfinished knit sweater with three arms | Backup Plans |
|---|---|---|
| 232 | A raven quill pen | Bird Law |
| 233 | A lump of red clay wrapped in wet burlap | Clever Hands |
| 234 | A brightly colored wicker monster swallowing the sun | Leap of Faith |
| 235 | An architectural model of a utopian shopping mall | Meticulous Planning |
| 236 | A hollow beech penguin that rattles when shook | Untroubled Dreams |
| 241 | An amphora that transforms raw materials into condiments | Classic Problems, Modern Solutions |
|---|---|---|
| 242 | A solar-powered jetpack | Looking for the Next Big Thing |
| 243 | A can containing a spring disguised as a snake | Pretty Funny, Actually |
| 244 | An old camera with four shots left on the roll | Storyteller |
| 245 | A tarnished music box topped with a nonchalant jester | Theoretical Engineering |
| 246 | A locked mechanical egg | Trivia Champ |
| 251 | A red helium balloon | Ebullience |
|---|---|---|
| 252 | A smiling camphorwood orb | Feared by Children |
| 253 | An orbiting planet the size of a grapefruit | Mostly Harmless |
| 254 | A hinged saltstone sphere protecting a pristine sampo | Salty |
| 255 | A glass orb containing a crisp, clear leviathan eye | Taxidermy |
| 256 | An iron armillary sphere that vouchsafes a shadow moon | The Terrible Burden of Freedom |
| 261 | An unremarkable pawn | Collective Action |
|---|---|---|
| 262 | A polished cypress token from Casino Festiva | Demolitions |
| 263 | A pair of heliotrope dice marked with alchemical symbols | Earth, Wind, and Fire |
| 264 | The Eight of Hearts, slightly singed | Gamblin' |
| 265 | A worn pool cue in a snakeskin sling | Grifts and Hustles |
| 266 | A Badge of Courage from a child's board game | True Courage |
| 311 | A screaming agate | Action Geology |
|---|---|---|
| 312 | An ash wand topped with an uncut phosphophyllite crystal | An Eye for Ruin |
| 313 | A fordite dowsing pendant pointing toward... something | Approximate Knowledge of Many Things |
| 314 | A paper sack filled with uncracked geodes | Immovable Object |
| 315 | A jagged, bleeding hunk of quartz | Red Right Hand |
| 316 | A rock hammer encrusted in oxidized bismuth | Taking Care of Bismuth |
| 321 | A conical hat decorated with a map of the cosmos | Advanced Mathematics |
|---|---|---|
| 322 | A wide-brimmed sun hat that casts an uncanny shadow | Heat-Resistant |
| 323 | A rough oaken mask with a single eyehole | No Mercy |
| 324 | A mascot costume's papier-mâché rabbit mask | Open-Minded |
| 325 | A functional space helmet with its own atmosphere | The Dead Do Not Feel Pain |
| 326 | A collapsible top hat with a green carnation in the band | Greatest Show on Earth |
| 331 | A chipped clay mug with a glass bottom | Common Sense |
|---|---|---|
| 332 | A cherrywood egg-hammer with machine-tooled silicone grip | Favors from the Prince of Ants |
| 333 | A green glass bowl holding an egg, an orange, and a skull | Intermediate Geomancy |
| 334 | A cut glass decanter filled with pure water | Junior Conductor |
| 335 | A clay roofing tile with a relief of a boar's face | Pigheaded |
| 336 | A 48-piece silver flatware set in a velvet-lined trunk | Savior Faire |
| 341 | A harness of iron chains inscribed with sins against birds | Friend of Snakes |
|---|---|---|
| 342 | One end of a very long cable | Gormless Enthusiasm |
| 343 | A misspelled wedding cake | Just Murrayed |
| 344 | Cask of Amontillado sherry, never used | Masonry |
| 345 | A large foam finger marked with the faded letters “IDE” | Mob Boss |
| 346 | Two-handed ceremonial scissors | Pomp and Circumstance |
| 351 | The last jar of glazier's pepper sauce | Agent of Chaos |
|---|---|---|
| 352 | Two nights of Dog King pomade in a squat clay jar | Effortless Intimidation |
| 353 | A smooth glass jar filled with green slime | Poison's in My Bloodstream |
| 354 | A pickle jar containing a preserved, tattooed heart | Strong Grip |
| 355 | A jam jar filled with medicinal brandy and three plums | Unconventional Medicine |
| 356 | A tall glass jar with a metal spigot containing sun tea | Unstoppable Force |
| 361 | A necklace of coral, pearls, and fish hooks | Beachcomber |
|---|---|---|
| 362 | Half of a silver heart pendant marked “BEST” | Good Listener |
| 363 | A teardrop pendant that contains a swirling nebula | Light Fingers |
| 364 | A barbed wire bracelet tangled with bones and bird skulls | Martyr Complex |
| 365 | A moldavite frog pendant topped with a crystal pyramid | Obviously Distressed |
| 366 | A hammered gold ring resembling a snake with topaz eyes | Sorry, Not Sorry |
| 411 | An architectural portfolio of flying cities | Aeronaut |
|---|---|---|
| 412 | A mandala comparing the Ten Sanctuaries to a human body | Blood of the Revelator |
| 413 | Schematics to a revolutionary tunneling machine | Civil Engineering |
| 414 | A leather-and-cellophane map to the Aeronaut's Heart | Faith of the Heart |
| 415 | An educational placemat with questionable misprints | Former Child Prodigy |
| 416 | Half of a torn treasure map leading to the Golden River | Weaponized Greed |
| 421 | A glass eye with a serpentine pupil | Contortionist |
|---|---|---|
| 422 | An etched tin ear trumpet | Eyes in the Dark |
| 423 | A 5X anatomical model of a human ear, lightly modified | Quick Sketch Artist |
| 424 | A solid mahogany cane with an amber knob | Big Enough |
| 425 | Triangular spectacles | Three Sides to Every Story |
| 426 | A rose-tinted monocle | Toxic Positivity |
| 431 | Someone else's eyebrows | Beautician |
|---|---|---|
| 432 | A snow globe containing a resin-cast hermit crab city | Born on a Train |
| 433 | A candy tin full of loose change and spare teeth | Collector |
| 434 | A small promotional towel | Healthy Glow |
| 435 | Curdled moonlight sealed in a wax-stoppered soda bottle | Treasure Hunter |
| 436 | A tornado sealed in an acrylic glass cube | Wind Farmer |
| 441 | A 1957 six-string hollowbody guitar pierced by an arrow | Busker |
|---|---|---|
| 442 | A ribcage xylophone | Glib Nihilism |
| 443 | The world's tiniest violin, stored in a matchbook | Insult Comedy |
| 444 | A bleached sea horn reinforced with copper and red coral | Military Tradition |
| 445 | An obstructed French horn | Perfect Posture |
| 446 | A silver-plated harmonica | Tragically Handsome |
| 451 | A heavily redacted personnel file | [REDACTED] |
|---|---|---|
| 452 | A pawn shop receipt for a ribcage xylophone | An Eye for Quality |
| 453 | An oily punch card | Big Cheese at the Cracker Plant |
| 454 | A photo of yourself with an unknown tattoo | High-Pressure Acrobatics |
| 455 | Two tickets to “The Death of an Admiral” | Media Literacy |
| 456 | A political leaflet that's been folded into a star | Spycraft |
| 461 | A decoupage makeup case filled with mushrooms | A Growing Fad |
|---|---|---|
| 462 | A dandelion seed parachute | Carried by the Wind |
| 463 | A musty gardenia boutonnière | Casual Grace |
| 464 | A marrow-tinted glass skull filled with sourdough starter | Generous to a Fault |
| 465 | A dying albatross elm sapling | Gentle Touch |
| 466 | A numbing Saturnalia cactus thorn, embedded in your thumb | Photosynthesis |
| 511 | An unread, clove-scented letter addressed to you | Cowering, Mainly |
|---|---|---|
| 512 | A pack of unsent postcards detailing an unexamined life | Lollygagging |
| 513 | A book of limited edition railway stamps | Philatelist |
| 514 | A muted post horn covered in travel stickers | Prophet of the World to Come |
| 515 | A lumpy package addressed to the Red Cerebos Society | Sudden, Unexpected Acts of Bravery |
| 516 | A postal satchel filled with undelivered mail | Trainspotting |
| 521 | An incomplete crossword puzzle filled out in ink | 95% Lyrics, 5% Life Skills |
|---|---|---|
| 522 | The key to a mechanical egg | Close-Up Magic |
| 523 | A silver monkey containing a terrible secret | Idol Chatter |
| 524 | A glass sliding puzzle full of morning light | Initiate of the Emerald Band |
| 525 | A puzzle box modeled after Modron, the Cubic City | Perfect Timing |
| 526 | The last piece of the jigsaw puzzle | Really Quite Rubbish |
| 531 | A purple cloth temple charm attached to a bell | Applied Hermitry |
|---|---|---|
| 532 | A back-mounted shrine laden with small gods | Beyond Belief |
| 533 | A brass thurible of myrrh | Breathes a Life of Gathering Gloom |
| 534 | Baby tooth prayer beads | Heretical Insight |
| 535 | A portable confessional | Honest Face |
| 536 | The skull of a saint, glorified with painted gauze | Tomb Raider |
| 541 | A cedarwood mask with a customs form of dubious legality | Better Living Through Bureaucracy |
|---|---|---|
| 542 | A fake beard that smells like straw and cinnamon | Common Scents |
| 543 | A black bandana and the fragrance of dark coffee | Gallows Humor |
| 544 | An ingot of jerky that smells of salt, smoke, and flesh | Surly Swagger |
| 545 | An orchestra of odors, sacred and profane | Party Animal |
| 546 | An amaranthine gardenia pinned to your breast | Phantom Thief |
| 551 | An small iron teapot that resembles a well-fed quail | Calming Presence |
|---|---|---|
| 552 | A sunset-colored carnival glass teacup | Gentle Adolescence |
| 553 | A fermented tea cake with notes of chestnut and glory | My Teacher's Voice |
| 554 | A bamboo whisk that smells like grass and wet earth | Small Talk |
| 555 | A tin of Auric Glade oolong | Time for Tea |
| 556 | A battered sugar bowl | Travelling Light |
| 561 | A water clock that resembles a bell tower | Amateur Historian |
|---|---|---|
| 562 | A pocket orloj dedicated to the maladies of comets | Guided by the Stars |
| 563 | An hourglass half-filled with sluggish red sand | Too Much Time on Your Hands |
| 564 | A railroad chronometer with a bas relief locomotive | Train Time |
| 565 | A tear-off cartoon calendar that's the same every day | Unflappable |
| 566 | A bejeweled pocket watch with a corroded mainspring | Unmistakably Royal |
| 611 | A scorched baseball bat | Eventually, We'll All Be Dead |
|---|---|---|
| 612 | A scrimshaw pipe that looks like a volcano | Genial Mumbling |
| 613 | A jade trowel covered in yellow pollen | Green Thumb |
| 614 | A bamboo umbrella painted with pine trees | In Search of a Rival |
| 615 | Auguries and Antipodes pocket soothsayer | Occult Curiosity |
| 616 | An honest shovel | Prepared to Dig Two Graves |
| 621 | A plush hippopotamus puppet | Cartooning |
|---|---|---|
| 622 | A realistic water pistol with five notches in the grip | Deadeye |
| 623 | A souvenir boomerang | It's All in the Reflexes |
| 624 | A model train crewed by miniature angry hogs | Miniaturist |
| 625 | A ceramic doll dressed in the style of its owner | Polish and Poise |
| 626 | A satirical marionette of the mayor's useless brother | Rabble-Rousing |
| 631 | A smoked ham branded with three mountains | Butcher |
|---|---|---|
| 632 | A well-chewed passport | Can't Stop, Won't Stop |
| 633 | A clay jar of tasty figs | I've Got Snacks |
| 634 | A torch that burns without consuming fuel | Lightbringer |
| 635 | A driftwood walking stick | Sea Legs |
| 636 | 50' silk rope | Traditionalist |
| 641 | A small anvil, chained to your ankle | Chain Tricks |
|---|---|---|
| 642 | A wheelless wheelbarrow | Deconstruction Worker |
| 643 | A black coffin filled with dried roses | Faded Glory |
| 644 | A department store mannequin wearing a sharp suit | Fashionable |
| 645 | A boulder marked with patches of luminescent moss | Revenge |
| 646 | A rusted metal anchor | Yell Even Louder |
| 651 | A gold doubloon pierced by a nail | Barratry |
|---|---|---|
| 652 | A gilded leather belt | Champion of the Beach |
| 653 | A mayoral sash | Embroidery |
| 654 | A locked briefcase, handcuffed to your wrist | In Pursuit |
| 655 | A teak chest filled with coins and yellow dirt | Internal Compass |
| 656 | A silver coin with your laughing face on it | Too Dumb to Live, Too Great to Die |
| 661 | A switchblade comb with a hidden blade | Double Agent |
|---|---|---|
| 662 | A handmade flintlock musket with a pittance of silver bullets | Just the Right Bullets |
| 663 | A twisted harpoon made of horn and ivory | Killing |
| 664 | A rock crystal knife with a bone handle | Go for the Throat |
| 665 | A lion-headed sabre hilt in an ornate, but empty, scabbard | Studied the Blade |
| 666 | A big, round bomb with a slowly burning fuse | Volunteer Fire Department |
Though we wander about,
find no honey of flowers in this waste,
is our task the less sweet—
who recall the old splendour,
await the new beauty of cities?
Cerebos exists due to the financial and moral support of many people. These bold explorers of the unknown may rest easy knowing their encouragement has kept this project on the rails and driven it further than it could have ever gone on its own.
