The Creeping Coral
over 5 years ago – Mon, Dec 31, 2018 at 06:50:18 AM

The Creeping Coral

The old beachcomber paused at the shoreline of the old beach. He liked picking things up, but he sure hadn’t picked this up before. He touched it, then screamed and never knew why.  

—

“It appears to be a member of the coral family,” uttered venerable Professor Limus Mankeason at his lab in Coastal City, a large coastal city named after itself. He and assistant Rosty Newlar — taking up science after it killed her boyfriend Teenage Shrimp — gazed at the strangely encrusted corpse. Also there: Agent Cods Hairigon of the Federal Bureau of Dams, probably because of his familiarity with hard crusty things.

“How could coral do this to a human person, Professor?” he coughed, lighting a cigarette.  

“It’s an advanced form, Mr. Hairigon, unlike any I’ve seen. Preliminary tests tell me it might be… intelligent.”  

“Next you’ll be telling me rocks can talk,” chuckled Cods through smoke.  

“We shall require more tests,” coughed Limus, waving smoke away.  

—

That night at the empty lab, the encrusted corpse sat up. With crunching difficulty, the Coral Man got off the table and shuffled out the door. A short time later, it looked up at a tall building, then reached out and embraced a corner. Coral began spreading to the building.  

—

“Things just don’t get up and walk out unless they’re things that can do that,” objected Cods the next morning.  

“Incredible,” gasped Limus. Just then the radio crackled. “We interrupt almost everything to bring you this news flash! Buildings in Coastal City appear to be turning to coral. Authorities remain baffled but promise to say words when they have them.”  

—

Limus, Rosty, and Cods stepped into a nightmare. Crowds ran screaming through the streets. Limus stopped a man. “What? What is it?”  

“Let go of me, you old fool! What’s wrong with you, do you want to be coral?!” yelled the man, half insane with fear, who clearly didn’t want to be coral.  

The crunching was oppressive as coral crept like fungus up building after building.

“Because it’s hard and crusty, this is under the jurisdiction of the FDD,” barked Cods. “I’m declaring martial law!”  

—

A short time later, Limus, Rosty, Cods and army officers studied a map.  

“So you’re dead against an atom bomb?” persisted Cods.  

“Cods, that could actually be worse than turning to coral.” reasoned Limus.  

“Have you seen that stuff?”  

A cry from a guard brought them to the window. Coral People were roaming the streets, touching buildings, which began to coralize. It was the final straw. The army ordered evacuation.  

—

Soon, Coastal City was a shadow of its former self, which used to have people in it. But three did remain — Limus, Rosty and Cods — using the only subterfuge they could: realistic papier mâché coral costumes laced with actual coral in case the coral had a way of sensing that. They shuffled along, occasionally touching buildings to “coralize” them, mingling with actual Coral People.  

“I don’t see what this will accomplish, Professor,” mumbled Cods through his mask.

“Only by studying them can we hope to defeat them,” replied the elderly scientist.  

—

After shambling a while, Rosty said, “Hey, Prof, can we eat? I’m starved,” so they stopped in a diner.  

“The coral is somehow reanimating corpses of its victims, forming almost a hard candy shell to keep them from decomposing,” theorized Limus.  

“But, Prof, like, why would they do this, man? Is it just really mean coral?” queried Rosty.  

“If only I knew, Rosty.”  

Abruptly, a Coral Man shuffled up. “Why are you not turning this diner to coral?” It was the first time they’d heard one speak, and its deep, dead croak rumbled. The three started touching things, pretending to coralize, until the annoying Coral Man left.  

—

The city continued its horrifying coralization. The crackling was unbearable, like buildings in pain. Limus began a series of tests to see what, if anything, might reverse the process: water, sodium, electricity…  

“I usually try punching things,” grunted Cods, “That’s the tried-and-true method.” And, with that, the veteran dam man hauled off and laid one on some coral.  

As Cods iced his swollen hand, Limus continued testing: acid, extreme cold, extreme heat…  

He’d about given up, when Rosty pointed. Coral People were crowding together around a particularly crusty leader. Rarely had there been so much shambling.  

“Soon our work will be complete, my coral brethren and sistren!” croaked the Leader. “Long has humankind weakened our delicate ecosystems: coral reefs that are the beating hearts of the sea, livings oceans that sustain life on this planet. Now… well… see how they like it, okay? When the final building is covered, then shall we trigger the vibration that crumbles them to dust.”  

“Vibration,” gasped Limus. “That’s it!”  

—  

Cods watched as the Professor and Rosty used a primitive electronic device to test various sounds and frequencies on a secluded coralized building corner.  

“If one vibration can crumble, another may simply remove it,” bleated the elderly scientist.  

Just then, a Coral Person spotted them, then another. Cods had his hands full, fighting them off the only way he knew how. But they were closing fast…  

“I’ve got it!” cheered Limus. “Okay, now run away!”  

—

A short time later, the three emerged from an uncoralized music store, free of cumbersome disguises. It was not exactly music, but the untrained sounds emitting from their flutes had the desired effect. Like Pied Pipers, except for the rodent part, they made coral slide down the sides of every building they passed — an unearthly and unattractive striptease — to crumble harmlessly to the ground. Likewise, each Coral Person began shuffling off its coral coil, slumping to the pavement, their rotting corpses now revealed.

—  

The city was finally restored.  

“Now we can get the people back. Clean things up.” said Cods.  

“Gee, you, like, did it, Professor,” said Rosty.  

“Not I, my dear,” twinkled Limus. “Twas the simplest of God’s creatures…the flute.”

 
A few quiet days in the middle of our powerhouse campaign, as we celebrate the changing of numbers around the globe. I hope everyone has an excellent few days, and we'll launch 2019 strong with another preview coming on Thursday...

Until then, spread the word! Warn your friends... I mean, invite your friends, to share in this awesome campaign! And play a game and let us know!

#TheyCameFromBeneathTheSea!

#UnderseaInvasion2019

Revenge of the Crab People
over 5 years ago – Sat, Dec 29, 2018 at 06:05:35 AM

Revenge of the Crab People

The brochures were right. Holeport, New England sure was quaint, and tourists Togg and Norna Lamteem were in the mood for quaint on their rented boat that calm night. Until the scraping.  

“I’ll see what it is, honey. You enjoy the quaintness,” chuckled the good-natured awning salesman.  

“If it’s a fish, tell him he’s welcome if he’s already cleaned,” chuckled Norna, wielding her own gentle humor. But the only answer was a dull thud, which was not like Togg’s thuds at all. Then silence.  

“Honey? Is that silence you?”  

Norna slowly walked starboard. A dark figure stood astern. Cautiously, Norna moved closer. When Togg turned, she was relieved. Until his lower face opened like crab mandibles and his eyes moved to the sides. Norna’s scream ripped through the night like a paper cut.  

—

Chasmaggon Cannery loomed, more gothic than one would expect for fish processing. Agent Newcott Waikes of the Department of Touristry looked worried. Holeport depended on two sources of income: Cannery and summer people, and the latter were disappearing like midges.  

Inside, secretary Alice Greem looked sympathetic. Owner Gideon Chasmaggon was too busy to see Newcott. The Touristry agent wasn’t surprised. In fact, unsurprise was practically an old friend. The locals just didn’t trust city folk like him. But his spirits lifted when Alice asked to meet him at the diner. “Never let it be said a Touristry agent turns down food, information, or a pretty face, in that order,” chuckled the born charmer.  

—  

At the diner, Alice seemed uncomfortable. Over bacon biscuits, she informed Newcott that workers were behaving strangely, acting peevish and morose. Plus they were walking sideways.  

“At first I thought it was a safety thing around the canning machinery,” she chirped.

Before she could chirp anymore, Clain Hoake swaggered in. A canning legend, the two-fisted troubleshooter naturally was the jealous sort. “Whattya doing with my gal, slick?”

“Clain Hoake, I’m not your gal,” harumphed Alice. “Act like a human instead of a caveman for once.”  

Her words fell on unlistening ears as Clain and Newcott erupted in fisticuffs. Fortunately, it ended in a draw, but the biscuits were ruined.  

“Say, you Touristry guys are every bit as tough as I’d heard,” growled the can-handler.

“You canners give as good as you get also,” begrudged Newcott, beginning an unlikely alliance. After brief discussion about the strange doings at the cannery, Clain agreed to hire him so he could go undercover; though he insisted government men lacked “canning hands.”  

—

As “Bark Barkson, novice canner” Newcott kept his ears open, quickly befriending chatty fellow canner Mizdy Hammis. Mizdy informed him that some of the workers were whispering about something going on after hours at the plant and so, at closing time, Newcott hid among some unused fish parts.  

Soon workers began gathering, in that strange sideways manner, and it soon became evident it was a secret meeting. Before the horror of Newcott’s horrified eyes, as one, the workers’ faces opened in crab mandibles and their eyes shifted to the sides. Darned if they weren’t crab people!  

Most crabbishly monstrous of all was the owner, Gideon Chasmaggon, much larger, and crabbier. He spoke of their universal loathing of the “landers” and their “foul canning ways.”  

Newcott was spellbound. Suddenly, there was a noise behind him. To his relief, it was Mizdy. But relief quickly turned to jelly pie as her cherubic face went full-crab-mouth. They immediately began to grapple and her strength was considerable. Finally, Newcott maneuvered her to a canning machine and, with great effort, shoved her into it where she was canned.  

—

Newcott ran through darkened streets, straight to the Holeport Police Station where he spilled his story to the desk sergeant. He’d barely started when the man’s face opened crab-style and said, “Care for some crab cakes?” which made no sense to the agent as he ran out the door.  

Believing crab police would be of little help, Newcott ran again. Who could he trust? Was the whole town taken over?  

Suddenly, he ran into Alice and Clain. Were they crab people too, also?  

After trying to stretch Clain’s face to see if it would open then making him walk forward and backward — much to the latter’s annoyance — Newcott decided he could trust them.  

“If only there was a plan,” mused Newcott.  

“Hey!” snapped Alice with her fingers. “I just remembered something. Clain, wasn’t Holeport named for the giant hole in the center of town?”  

“Oh my gosh, Alice, you’re right!” exclaimed Clain, also snapping fingers.  

“Course, I don’t know if that can help us any.”  

“It might, Alice… It just might,” mused Newcott, wheels turning that didn’t even really exist.  

—

A short time later, “the last people in Holeport,” as they now called themselves when asked, ran through the streets luring every crab person they came across to chase after them. Soon there was an enormous phalanx of crab folk in hot pursuit.  

Clain led the way as they veered towards the town’s namesake. It was quickly obvious he was no stranger to veering. Soon, the giant hole was within sight.  

“It’s a wonder they never put a fence around that!” shouted Newcott.  

“Just like a city person,” smirked Clain, and Newcott smirked back in a show of mutual smirking.  

“Veer off at the last second!” barked Newcott.  

“Sorry. That’s a risk I can’t take!” bellowed Clain.  

“No, Clain—!”  

“Not this time, old chum,” uttered the brave canner as he leaped into the hole’s inky depths, followed by an enormous cascade of tumbling crab people.  

The two survivors stared into the hole. Alice sobbed.  

“He… gave his life so crab people would die.”  

“He also gave his life so we wouldn’t,” added Newcott as he held her close in silence.

“Wonder how deep that is?” said Alice.

 
#TheyCameFromBeneathTheSea!

#G-MenLackCanningHands

Backers Only Manuscript Preview #3
over 5 years ago – Fri, Dec 28, 2018 at 06:03:47 AM

This post is for backers only. Please visit Kickstarter.com and log in to read.

A Preview from Beneath the Sea! - The Art of the Quip
over 5 years ago – Thu, Dec 27, 2018 at 06:06:27 AM

Greetings, non-moist surface-dwellers,

It is I, James of the Gill-kin, to share another preview of our encounter testing "game" with you. Rally your friends and acquaintances, for a Stretch Goal target looms near...

 
At $27,000 in funding - A NEW SCENARIO - More adventure to be had with a new scenario PDF, added on to the rewards list for all backers receiving the They Came from Beneath the Sea! rulebook PDF.

 
At $28,000 in funding! - EXTRA AMPHIBIOUS ANTAGONISTS - A fistful of new threats and antagonists will be created and released as a Threat File! PDF, added on to the rewards list for all backers receiving the They Came from Beneath the Sea! rulebook PDF.

And these extra threat releases will be needed, to hold the genius that will surely be witnessed from those backers who choose the SFX Supervisor reward tier!

But, perhaps the true example of your cleverness will be demonstrated when you use clever quips in a game of They Came from Beneath the Sea!

The Art of the Quip

There is no handier weapon at the monster or alien fighter’s disposal than the Quip. Also a gun. And a ray, some kind of ray. Plus speed, agility. Hiding is good, if you hide from something, so you can organize later, maybe regroup. Punching, also handy.  

But Quips, they are something special, because all they take is some presence, some wit, some wherewithal, and a little bit of imagination. And, before a wave of slime can engulf, before a razor-toothed mouth snaps, or a clutch of allies panic, those words are out of your mouth and no one or no thing can ever put them back. It’s often believed a Quip turned the tide for the Scots at Stirling Bridge, though its actual words are lost to history.

Quip Mechanics  There are six decks of Quips in They Came from Beneath the Sea!, from which you will be drawing your character’s pithy one-liners. If you don’t own the official decks, that’s fine. Appendix One (p. XX) lists each deck’s contents so you can create your own. 

Vows, Defiance, and Tough Talk
These are the Quips that express your steadfastness, dedication, or resolve. They can boost those around you, but they can also boost you. Often, it’s a show of grim determination, a pledge of alliance, or a vow to not give in to fear. These are the Quips we all need from time to time.  

Quip Your Griping
Quips aren’t always about cocky bravado or quick cleverness. They can also express displeasure, a bit of wiseass attitude, often jaded, towards how things are progressing, perhaps even as a criticism of their fellows. This is especially true of hardened veterans who are just not happy with things, the newbie who’s been thrown into more than they bargained for, or the hotshot who wants some action, pronto. These can be sneered, bitten off, and spit out or dropped like that sour note no one wants to hear. Sarcasm often works nicely here.

And Before You Pull That Switch
There will come a time in fighting thaumocs that you are just about to deliver something of consequence. It might be as small as a single punch that carries symbolic weight. Or perhaps an attack that could have great impact, an escape that could turn things around, sometimes a jump from a high place. Often times it means throwing a switch, pushing a button, or pulling a lever that could have devastating effect.  

It is practically a prewritten rule that this be punctuated by something pithy and punchy, usually just beforehand. This Quip carries perhaps less weight than the others. It’s just so satisfying…

Please Enjoy This Great Portent  
Nothing freezes a room full of brass or lab coats like an ominous ton of bricks plopped in their midst by a mere twist of tongue. It reverberates in the air like aftershock, earning the respect and admiration of any doubters, but also as a wakeup call, a rally to go and kick some alien ass. 

No matter what your role in the battle against Things from the Sea, your true mettle is shown when you utter a portentous foreshadowing. Often, it can be an ultimatum. Sometimes… it’s an ultimatum to yourself… 

These can be perceived as being negative but often it’s a harsh truth that must be faced. A reality check of sorts. As if to say: This is it. Now or never. We have to buckle down or we are done for. In this way, it somewhat overlaps the Vow. But it can also be a grave and heroic pronouncement after a perceived victory, even a minor one. 

Why So Glib?
Glibness is crucial to a large portion of well-delivered Quips. It is the humorous heart of the snappy remark. Nothing raises morale in the face of a scaly goggle-eyed horror from the deep more than a brash display of amusement.  

Of course, people on screen have been laughing at danger since the days of Errol Flynn and, before him, Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. (most effectively recreated in The Princess Bride).  

It can be that devilish rejoinder against all odds as a slimy dripping appendage closes in on your face. Or, most popularly, the triumphant punctuation just prior to pressing that button or pulling that switch or whatever the coup de grâce may be that dispatches one or more horrifying aquatepillars. Again, understatement is key. It implies confidence, coolness, lack of effort. It says, despite your exertion, despite the grueling effort it took to get here, the rising fear you constantly tamp down like so much mud… please accept this wisecrack…  

The Flirtation
Finally, nothing spices up a growing attraction or old movie chemistry like a playful Quip. A string of these can become the light verbal fencing that takes place even in the midst of conjuring the necessary science to battle aquatic nightmares. Slight smirks are welcome.

Draw Your Quips!
You start a session with three Quips, with two drawn from the decks specified, and the third from any deck of your choice:  

• The Everyman draws one Quip from Why So Glib?, and one Quip from Quip Your Griping. 
• The G-Man draws one Quip from And Before You Pull that Switch and one Quip from Vows, Defiance, and Tough Talk. 
• The Mouth draws one Quip from Why So Glib? and one Quip from The Flirtation. 
• The Scientist draws one Quip from Please Enjoy This Great Portent and one Quip from And Before You Pull that Switch. 
• The Survivor draws two Quips from Vows, Defiance, and Tough Talk. 

New players may wish to choose Quips from their respective selections, while experienced players may opt for a random choice, or leave it to the Director to assign Quips.

If a player chooses to have their character utter a Quip in-game, that player must let the other players and Director know after the Quip is made and look to them for consensus that it was an appropriate (or at least amusing) use of the Quip. The group performs a quick vote, with a tie or victory for the Quip granting the quipper one additional die on the roll associated with the Quip, or the next roll following the Quip. 

After using a Quip, the player can choose to discard the Quip and draw a new one from any selection, or keep it and use it again at a later point. If successful on a later use, the quipper gains three additional dice. This chain of success can continue up to five additional dice for the same Quip used five times in one session. 

At the start of each new session, the number of additional dice resets, along with the Quips. 

Award Winners
When a character belts out a Quip, the player rolls the dice, and rolls at least three successes, the Quip is considered Award Winning. This is the scene from the movie that will be played as a preview clip at the award ceremonies, or at the very least get into the film’s trailer. 

Award Winners allow the character to do one of two things: retain the Quip until the end of the story arc and draw an additional Quip immediately, or instantly use a Cinematic without a Rewrite cost. Characters can have a maximum of five Quips in hand.

 
#TheyCameFromBeneathTheSea

#ArtOfTheQuip

Tumult of the Atlantoids
over 5 years ago – Wed, Dec 26, 2018 at 06:41:24 AM

Tumult of the Atlantoids

The man from the Federal Bureau of Dams stared at the dam with the eyes of a man born to stare at dams. Cods Hairigon had seen breaks but this took the cake, with extra frosting. Split as by a giant axe, flooding tons of water below. The fifth dam in as many weeks, which was exactly five. 

The helicopter landing nearby no doubt carried Dr. Karsly Morbin, the prominent damotologist he was waiting for. 

“I’m Dr. Karsly Morbin,” said the woman who got off. 

“You? What does a woman know about dams?” sneered the FBD agent.

Karsly smirked, hand on hip. “It may surprise you to know the first dam was invented by a woman in 1142 BC.” She gazed down at the wreckage. “Someone knew what they were doing.” 

“Sabotage, doctor?” 

“Does a beaver give a dam, Mr. Hairigon?”

— 

For while, the pair used science to determine how it was done. But the only science working for them was chemistry. 

“If I’d known all damatologists were like you, I would’ve busted one myself,” murmured Cods. 

“Mr. Hairigon, please, you’ll raise my floodwaters,” teased Karsly, before correcting him. “There’s no such thing as a damatologists. 

That would be stupid.” “I can’t think of any more dam lingo,” Cods admitted, moving in for a kiss. But an urgent radio call stopped him cold. 

— 

Soon, Cods and Karsly found themselves staked out at famed Hooterscroft Dam where strange things were reported. Suddenly, a humming, fish-shaped flying saucer with jagged dorsal fins flew over and shot a ray straight down the center of the dam, creating a crack. Before Cods and Karsly could react, a torrent of water was unleashed. 

“I wish we could have done something, but who expected a flying metal fish?” observed Karsly. 

“No one ever does,” replied Cods grimly. 

The duo quickly hopped in a car and pursued the fishcraft to a secluded field where it landed. Using their good friend caution, the very recent lovebirds crept up to the silent vessel. As they neared, Cods pulled a gun. 

“Is that really necessary?” asked Karsly. 

“Unfortunately, history says it is,” growled the FBD man, “But ask me again after I shoot something.” 

Suddenly, a door opened in the shiny craft. With the briefly shared glance of people who don’t care, Cods and Karsly said goodbye to old man hesitance and entered. 

Electrical dials were everywhere, along with levers and knobs, plus a very nice desk and chair, some really neat charts, and a big futuristic television screen. 

“Hey, they have TV,” noticed Cods. 

“It’s… like something from outer space,” uttered the damotologist. 

“Don’t talk crazy, Karsly, if you can help it,” frowned the dam man that loved her. 

“Or should you say… inner space?” came a pompous and obnoxious correction. 

— 

The couple who entered looked human but were garbed like aquatic space people, heavy on fins and capes.

“I am Phishaphus,” announced the haughty male. 

“And I am… Aquana,” purred the female. 

“Oh, how we pity the minds of the hopelessly ungilled,” offered the male with unmasked condescension. 

“Ungilled?” perked Karsly with scientific interest. “You speak in puzzles, and I confess I’ve never had the patience, except for tic-tac-toe.” 

“Puzzles… only to your land-mind. We are Atlantoids, descendants of Atlantis who ruled Earth when you were in diapers.” 

“It is my talking-turn, Phishaphus, for we are equals where we come from,” stated Aquana. “Our plan is simple. Destroy all your dam blocks.” 

“You mean our dams,” corrected Karsly. “Blocks are for children.” She shared a glance with Cods who appreciated her clever backhanded insult. God, how he loved her. 

“That is what I said! Your dam blocks. And when all your continents are flooded, only we will survive! Behold!” Aquana lifted her hair, proudly displaying working gills. 

Cods and Karsly gasped as one, for they were that close now. 

“People? People like fish?” It was obvious the scientist’s thoroughly scientific mind was having a problem grasping the concept. Cods took her hand because it was there. 

With completely unnecessary theatrical flourish, Phishaphus pulled a lever and the craft took off. 

“Surely, there’s room for all of us, Aquana,” reasoned Karsly, hoping to reach her, woman to woman. 

“Save your breath, Karsly. We’ll need it underwater,” jeered Cods. 

The craft plunged into the sea. Soon the gillwoman gestured to the big screen, again calling out her favorite word, “Behold!” 

Cods and Karsly gazed at the wonder of several small, rundown, domed underwater buildings that looked reasonably interesting. 

“Is… that Atlantis?” asked Cods. 

“Yes! Yes, of course it’s Atlantis! Fool! Remarkable fool!” hollered Phishaphus shrilly. 

Seeing the land people were unimpressed, the gilled alien worked controls and the fishcraft burst out of the sea into the air. 

“Even now we near your largest dam block,” gloated Phishaphus. 

“It’s just dam, why can’t you get that?” insisted Karsly. 

“You know, you creatures are tough to reason with,” growled Cods. “Are you as tough with your fists?” 

“What are fists?” asked Phishaphus as Cods punched him, and the two erupted in a fight. Not made for onboard fisticuffs, the fishcraft lurched. Karsly went for the controls, but she was headed off by Aquana, and now they struggled. 

The fishcraft was heading straight for a mountain. Cods turned from his fight with Phishaphus to call to Karsly. “Look, emergency parachutes! Guess even Atlantoids need those! Try to put one on!” he yelled as his opponent landed a punch. 

Karsly shoved Aquana away, and she and Cods donned parachutes. Karsly saw a lever marked EXIT, pulled it and the door opened. 

“Jump!” Karsly yelled, and they dove out. 

“No!” yelled Aquana as their craft plunged out of control. Our heroes landed safely on the ground in time to watch the screaming craft smash into a mountain and explode. Holding each other picturesquely, Cods and Karsly soberly surveyed the untouched dam. 

“Maybe someday people will understand dams better,” said Cods. 

“Even people with gills,” added Karsly with a hopeful smile.  

 
STRETCH GOAL SMASHED!

Do you think you could have survived your encounter with these Atlandoids? Perhaps you need more fearsome foes to challenge you! Well, Behold - for we have achieved another Stretch Goal!

Achieved! - ADDITIONAL AQUATIC ALIEN ADVERSARIES! - A handful of new threats and antagonists will be created and released as a Threat File! PDF, added on to the rewards list for all backers receiving the They Came from Beneath the Sea! rulebook PDF.

Do you think you could easily defeat any adversary thrown at you? Is it unimaginable that our writers could create a truly worthy opponent?! Can only your mind conceive of a danger so great as to be an actual threat?!

Well, bonus - a new Reward Tier has opened, allowing a limited number of backers to collaborate with the design team on creatures and adversaries that will be published on a Threat File! supplement! Check out the new SFX Supervisor Reward Tier if you're interested!

And, on toward our next goal...

 
At $27,000 in funding - A NEW SCENARIO - More adventure to be had with a new scenario PDF, added on to the rewards list for all backers receiving the They Came from Beneath the Sea! rulebook PDF.

What better way to celebrate Boxing Day, the special holiday devoted to fisticuffs and pugilism, than by playing a two-fisted square-jawed hero in a game of They Came from Beneath the Sea!

If you get a chance to take the game for a test-drive over the holidays, let us know how it went in the comment section! Can't wait to hear what undersea adventures you've been up to!

And remember to spread the word and recruit more people to help you battle the Atlantoids and other dangerous antagonists!

#TheyCameFromBeneathTheSea!

#Behold!