Psychedelic Metal Roleplaying

Beyond the black obelisk, through the rainbow gate.

The icon ziggurat of the stratometaship.

Games. Art. Words.
Possible because of the heroes of the stratometaship.

—Thank You—

The Vastlands Await. A long strange trip across a mythic steppe littered with the remnants of space and time. Fast stars and slow blink in lazy rhythm, sending messages that none now read. Cats and body-hopping ghosts, crystal shamans and charlatan merchants, all. Promises of deeper truths, realities of change and regret. Journeys through gates and wormways into earths that have died and risen, each again a thousandfold.


Intimate, claustrophobic delves into small towns and lands on the edges of great worlds. Beset by witchcraft and superstition. Haunted by suspicion and magic. Cursed to the hell that is other people. Humbled by natures grander than human, yet just as fickle and mercurial. Come Autumn, our poor garden is all falling down, the yellowed leaves are flying in the wind.

The witch mountains never sink.

A caravan on a strange long trip through the Ultraviolet Grasslands to find the Black City at the end of the world.

Devotees and deserters build a new life under red skies in the heart of the twitching corpse of the greatest city the world had known.

Half-mad fools ascend into the skies on cobbled-together chariots of fire like the shamans of old to wander the voidways of the sky gods.

Heroes end cities and civilizations and worlds through accidents and inattention, and through it all, creation and invention dance on, a couplet unbound by space and time.

What even makes a hero when the tale is told? Not goodness, perhaps. But excess, yes, indeed.

Moebius’ mind-bending bande dessinée Airtight Garage. Blue Oyster Cult’s evocative Veteran of the Psychic Wars. The rambling melange that is the Heavy Metal movie. The surreal fantasy of Jodorowsky’s Holy Mountain. The impressionistic brilliance of Miller’s Fury Road. The semi-coherence of the Strugatskys’ Roadside Picnic or VanderMeer’s Annihilation. The neo-baroque pop metal of Ghost.

The shifting realities of new wave science fiction. Psychedelic journeys between inner and outer spaces.

All these inspire and inform Seacat, le chat de mer, the roleplaying game of whimsical and capricious worlds, digressing from a single arc, lurching into branching stories, dancing into an act of creation itself. Seacat is self-consciously modernist; impressionist and expressionist by turns, embracing the theatre-of-the-mind and the infinite special effects budget that brings.

May the seacat bless you all with strange tales to laugh over for many days and many years.

chat de mer deux: seacat

The eye looks into the words and the words jump into the mind and the mind is filled with new images that the eye did not see.

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