This d100 table blends the atmospheric, weird-pulp horror of C.L. Moore’s Northwest Smith stories with the industrial, desperate sci-fi of The Red Room’s Orbital Decay. This blog entry picks right up from here on the blog.
In this setting, space is not a vacuum of physics, but a "cold void" inhabited by ancient, psychic vampires, forgotten gods, and the debris of a solar system that was once much more vibrant—and much more terrifying—than modern corporations realize. These horrors can also easily appear within the Interzone of Alvidad.
D100 Northwest Smith Encounter Table
| d100 | Encounter | Description |
| 01-05 | The Shambleau Victim | A crew member is found in a state of ecstatic catatonia. Their mind is being drained by a "girl" with hair that moves like independent, scarlet tendrils. |
| 06-10 | Black Thirst Echo | A beautiful "Minga" woman from the Venusian breeding pits appears in a high-security sector, seeking "protection" from a master she cannot name. |
| 11-15 | Scarlet Shawl | A piece of "silk-like" red debris is found in an airlock. Anyone who touches it begins to phase into a dimension of copper grass and blood-drinking trees. |
| 16-20 | Dust of Pharol | A canister of gray ash labeled as "high-grade fuel." It is the physical remains of a dead Martian god; opening it invites a psychic possession that seeks to destroy the planet. |
| 21-25 | The Cold Gray God | A technician’s eyes turn into swirling gray smoke. They are being used as a vessel for an ancient entity from the Martian poles that hates all warmth. |
| 26-30 | Yvala’s Lure | The ship’s comms pick up a song that sounds like the listener's deepest desire. It originates from a nearby asteroid that appears lush and habitable until the "glamour" fails. |
| 31-35 | Yarol’s Shadow | A cynical Venusian smuggler in a beat-up freighter (The Maid) offers to trade Segir whiskey for illegal Takeda Tech spare parts. |
| 36-40 | Julhi’s Mirror | A corridor on the station suddenly leads into the ruins of Vonng. A woman with vertical pupils watches from the shadows, waiting to trade lives for her freedom. |
| 41-45 | The Tree of Life | A Martian "Drylander" is found dehydrated in a storage locker. He carries a seed that, if planted in the station's hydroponics, will grow into a portal to a predatory God. |
| 46-50 | Ancient Lunar Echo | The station passes through a "pocket" of time. For 1d6 hours, the Moon appears lush and inhabited. Gravity fluctuates wildly as the station tries to anchor to a dead timeline. |
| 51-55 | Nymph of Darkness | An invisible entity is stalking the lower decks. It leaves no footprints, but the smell of ozone and the sound of soft, mocking laughter follow it. |
| 56-60 | The Alendar’s Envoy | A eunuch from a forbidden Venusian fortress arrives via a luxury shuttle, offering a fortune in "Soul-Gems" if the crew will "harvest" a specific passenger. |
| 61-65 | Black Goop Leak | A black, viscous fluid leaks from the life support system. It is sentient, ancient, and seeks to "mold" the crew into mindless, beautiful statues. |
| 66-70 | Stallion of the Void | A massive, semi-transparent creature resembling a winged horse is seen "grazing" on the station’s solar sails. It is harmless unless its "dream-field" is disturbed. |
| 71-75 | Song of the Siren | The ship’s AI begins reciting poetry in a voice that vibrates in the crew's bones. It is trying to navigate the ship toward a black hole where a "Beloved" waits. |
| 76-80 | The Space-Bronzed Outlaw | A tall man in worn brown leathers with a raygun at his hip is found in the bar. He’s looking for a pilot who doesn't ask questions about "haunted" cargo. |
| 81-85 | Pharol’s Disciples | A group of cultists among the laborers are found attempting to "re-ignite" the sun using a ritual involving stolen radioactive isotopes and blood. |
| 86-90 | The Quest for Starstone | A rift opens in the cargo bay. A woman in medieval armor (Jirel of Joiry) emerges, confusing your "heat-guns" for magic. She is hunting a soul-thief. |
| 91-95 | Segir Whiskey Binge | The crew finds a crate of Venusian Segir. It’s highly addictive and provides "visions" of the solar system’s true, terrifying history. |
| 96-00 | The Ultimate Decay | The station’s hull begins to turn into translucent crystal. Through the "windows," the crew sees a version of the solar system where Earth has already been consumed by the Sun. |
Running these Encounters in Orbital Decay
The Atmosphere: Moore’s work is "operatically colored noir." When using this table, emphasize the sensory contrast: the smell of stale synth-food against the scent of "alien musk," or the flicker of fluorescent lights against the "unnatural glow" of a psychic entity.
The Horror: In Orbital Decay, the horror is often industrial and claustrophobic. Moore adds a layer of transdimensional dread. The "monster" isn't just trying to eat you; it’s trying to seduce your soul or pull you into a dream-state from which you never wake.
The NPCs: Most NPCs (like Smith or Yarol) should feel like they belong in a Western. They are cynical, lethal, and primarily motivated by their next drink or their next paycheck, yet they possess a "core of goodness" that they hate to admit.
The Alendar is one of the most insidious predators in C.L. Moore’s mythos—a perfect fit for the corporate-gothic horror of Orbital Decay. Unlike the primal hunger of the Shambleau, the Alendar is a sophisticated, psychic parasite that feeds on the vitality of the soul, leaving its victims as hollow, beautiful shells.
In the context of The Red Room, the Alendar is likely an ancient Martian or Venusian entity that has masqueraded as a wealthy "collector" or a high-ranking corporate executive to gain access to a steady supply of human life-force.
Physiology and Appearance
The Glamour: The Alendar naturally appears as a tall, impossibly graceful humanoid with pale, translucent skin and eyes that shift like liquid gold. It radiates an aura of "terrible beauty" that makes it difficult for humans to act aggressively toward it.
The True Form: If its psychic mask is stripped away, the Alendar is a gaunt, spindly horror with elongated fingers and a lamprey-like mouth designed to "inhale" the psychic essence of its prey.
The Soul-Gems: The Alendar often carries or wears several pulsating jewels. These are not minerals, but crystallized "excess" life-force harvested from its favorite victims.
Combat and Special Abilities
If using the Wretched system or similar OSR-based mechanics:
Aura of Command: Any character within 30 feet must pass a Willpower/Sanity check or become "Enthralled." Enthralled characters cannot attack the Alendar and will actively defend it from their own crewmates.
Psychic Drain: Instead of physical damage, the Alendar attacks the mind. Each successful "hit" reduces the target's Intelligence or Willpower by 1d4. If any stat reaches 0, the character becomes a mindless "hollow one."
Mist Form: When reduced to 1/4 health, the Alendar can dissolve into a cold, gray vapor, retreating through the station's ventilation systems to reform elsewhere.
The "Alendar Contract" Encounter
In a campaign, the Alendar shouldn't just be a monster in a room. It is a social predator.
The Hook: The crew is contacted by a "Mr. Alen" from a rival corporation. He offers a massive payout—enough to pay off the ship’s debt twice over—in exchange for a "discreet delivery." The Twist: The cargo is a cryo-pod containing a beautiful, unconscious person. Mr. Alen isn't delivering them; he is storing them like a vintage wine to be drained later. The Horror: As the journey progresses, the crew begins to suffer from extreme lethargy and vivid nightmares of a golden-eyed figure standing over their bunks. The Alendar is "snacking" on the crew's dreams to stay powerful during the voyage.
Tactical Weaknesses
Lead Shielding: The Alendar’s psychic reach cannot penetrate heavy lead or specialized anti-radiation shielding common in reactor cores.
The "Cold" Iron: Ancient Martian legends suggest that weapons forged from "pure meteoric iron" (which could be interpreted as high-carbon industrial steel in Orbital Decay) ignore the Alendar’s damage reduction.
Sensory Overload: Because the Alendar is a creature of refined, ancient senses, high-intensity industrial strobes or sonic blasts can disrupt its concentration, breaking its "Enthrallment" over the crew.
"He was not a man. He was a thing of gold and ivory, a creature that had never known the heat of blood or the coarseness of flesh, but lived in the icy heights of a beauty so pure it was a slow, exquisite death."
In the wake of an Alendar, life does not end—it simply empties. These "Hollowed Victims" are the psychic dregs of the Alendar's feeding process. They are no longer people; they are biological automata, kept functional by a lingering thread of the creature's will to serve as disposable muscle, janitors, or terrifyingly silent sentries.
In the cramped, industrial corridors of Orbital Decay, a Hollowed Victim is often mistaken for a crew member suffering from severe "Space Madness" or oxygen deprivation—until they stop breathing and keep walking.
The Hollowed (Stat Block)
Type: Psychic Undead / Thrall
Behavior: Passive until commanded or their "zone" is breached.
Appearance: Their skin is waxy and unnervingly smooth, as if the wrinkles of personality have been ironed out. Their eyes are wide, fixed, and lack a pupillary reflex. They move with a jerky, rhythmic precision.
The "Vessel" Effect: They do not speak. However, the Alendar can project its voice through them. When this happens, the Hollowed’s jaw drops unnaturally wide, and a beautiful, melodic voice emerges from their vocal cords.
| Attribute | Effect |
| Painless | They ignore all "stun" effects and moral checks. They do not feel pain and will walk through fire or depressurization to reach a target. |
| Eerie Silence | They make no sound when moving. Unless looking directly at them, characters suffer a penalty to detect their approach. |
| Death Grip | If a Hollowed grabs a player, the player is "Grappled." While grappled, the Alendar can drain the player's Sanity/Willpower remotely through the Hollowed's touch. |
Varieties of Hollowed
Depending on who the Alendar fed upon, the threat level changes:
The Laborer Hollowed: Formerly deckhands or miners. They possess immense, unthinking strength. They use heavy wrenches or plasma torches as clubs, never bothering to dodge incoming fire.
The Security Hollowed: Former corporate guards. They retain their muscle memory for firearms but fire with a chilling, mechanical rhythm. They never use cover—they simply advance in a straight line, firing accurately.
The "Social" Hollowed: The Alendar’s favorites. These were once beautiful socialites or officers. They are kept clean and dressed in fine silks. Their role is to lure victims into "quiet rooms" where the Alendar waits.
Encounter Hooks for Orbital Decay
The Silent Shift: The crew enters a sector where twenty miners are still "working." The machines are running, but there is no talking, no music, and no swearing. The miners are simply moving rocks from one pile to another, their eyes vacant, waiting for the Alendar's next command.
The Medical Bay Horror: A crew member who went missing is found in Med-Bay. The monitors show flatline vitals (no pulse, no brain activity), yet the patient is sitting upright, neatly folding their own bandages over and over again.
The Meat Shield: During a confrontation with the Alendar, it surrounds itself with Hollowed Victims who were once the crew’s friends. To get to the monster, the players must decide if they are willing to gun down the "empty" bodies of their former allies.
Tactical Weaknesses
Sever the Link: If the Alendar is driven off or its concentration is broken (via sonic grenades or psychic interference), the Hollowed immediately collapse into true corpses.
Headshots/Cranial Destruction: Since the body is kept animated by a psychic "imprint" on the brain, destroying the head is the only way to stop a Hollowed permanently. Body shots do almost nothing.
This d100 Haunted Actions table describes the unnerving, non-combat behaviors of the Hollowed and the Alendar’s lingering psychic influence. Use these to build dread in the quiet moments of Orbital Decay, signaling that the station’s "soul" has been compromised.
D100: Haunting Actions of the Hollowed & The Void
| d100 | Action/Event |
| 01-05 | The Empty Feast: A group of 1d4 Hollowed sit around a mess hall table, miming the actions of eating a 5-course meal with empty hands and invisible utensils. |
| 06-10 | Symmetry: You find a room where a Hollowed has reorganized every piece of scrap, tool, and bone into perfect, concentric circles on the floor. |
| 11-15 | Mirror Check: A Hollowed stands before a darkened monitor or mirror, slowly and meticulously trying to "rearrange" its face into a smile using its fingers. |
| 16-20 | The Chorus: From the vents comes a low, melodic humming in a perfect C-major chord. It’s the sound of 10 Hollowed in different sectors breathing in synchronization. |
| 21-25 | The Warning: A Hollowed uses its own blood to paint a beautiful, intricate mural of the Martian landscape on a bulkhead. It stops to wave "hello" to you. |
| 26-30 | Lethal Stasis: You find a technician Hollowed standing on one leg on a railing over a 50-foot drop. They have been balanced there, perfectly still, for hours. |
| 31-35 | Shadow Mimicry: A Hollowed follows the crew at a distance of 40 feet, perfectly mimicking the gait and posture of the last person in the marching order. |
| 36-40 | The Offering: A Hollowed approaches peacefully and hands a PC a small, pulsating "Soul-Gem" (worth 500cr). The PC feels a sharp, cold sting in their palm. |
| 41-45 | Scent of Roses: The smell of industrial grease is suddenly replaced by the overwhelming scent of ancient Venusian jasmine. It marks where the Alendar just stood. |
| 46-50 | The Scribble: A PC finds their own name scratched into the frost of a viewport, over and over, in elegant, looping calligraphy. |
| 51-55 | Unnatural Sleep: A Hollowed is found tucked into a crew bunk. It isn't sleeping; it is staring at the underside of the top bunk with unblinking eyes. |
| 56-60 | The Gardener: A Hollowed is seen "watering" a dead, plastic office plant with its own saliva or a cup of toxic coolant. |
| 61-65 | Static Prayer: Every screen the crew passes flickers with the silhouette of the Alendar for exactly one frame. |
| 66-70 | The Greeting: A Hollowed stops what it is doing, turns to the crew, and says in a voice like velvet: "He is almost ready to see you now." |
| 71-75 | Weightless Dance: In a Zero-G corridor, a Hollowed performs a slow, hauntingly beautiful ballet, ignoring the sirens and flashing red lights. |
| 76-80 | The Collector: You find a locker filled with hundreds of "lost" items: wedding rings, ID tags, and teeth, sorted by "beauty." |
| 81-85 | Echo Location: A Hollowed taps a rhythmic code on a pipe. Somewhere deep in the station, a distant "thump" answers back in the same rhythm. |
| 86-90 | The Gift of Tears: A Hollowed is found weeping silently. The tears are not salt water, but a thick, glowing gold substance that sizzles on the floor. |
| 91-95 | Identity Theft: A Hollowed is wearing the discarded jumpsuit and ID badge of a PC's specific "Living Relative" or "Contact." |
| 96-00 | The Grand Invitation: All lights on the deck dim. The Hollowed in the area stop and point toward the bridge/command center in unison. |
Integrating the "Haunting" into Gameplay
When a player witnesses one of these actions, consider the following mechanical or narrative effects:
Stress/Sanity Check: Seeing the "Empty Feast" or "The Scribble" should trigger a low-level Stress check. The horror isn't that they are being attacked, but that the humanity of the crew has been deleted.
The Alendar's Gaze: These actions are how the Alendar "scouts" the crew. Every time a PC interacts with a Hollowed’s haunting behavior, the Alendar gains a +1 bonus to its next psychic attack against that specific PC.
Environmental Clues: Use the "Symmetry" or "The Warning" to lead players toward (or away from) the Alendar’s lair.
The Alendar does not reside in a typical "boss room." It creates a Lair of Aesthetic Decay, transforming a functional, industrial sector of the station into a surreal sanctuary that mirrors the forgotten palaces of ancient Mars.
For Orbital Decay, the Alendar has likely taken over the Hydroponics & Life Support Hub, where the abundance of oxygen and "life energy" is highest.
The Lair: Sector 7 "The Gilded Garden"
1. The Threshold (Decontamination Airlock)
The airlock has been forced open. The interior is coated in a fine, rust-colored Martian dust.
The Sight: 12 security suits are hung neatly on the walls, empty of their owners.
The Sound: Instead of the hiss of oxygen, there is a low, rhythmic thrum that matches a human heartbeat.
The Hazard: Anyone entering must pass a Willpower Save or feel an overwhelming urge to remove their helmet and "breath the ancient air."
2. The Hall of Echoes (Main Access Corridor)
The industrial lighting has been smashed. In its place, the walls are lined with Soul-Gems embedded into the plating, casting a dim, flickering violet light.
The Sight: The "Symmetry" behavior is peak here. Tools and debris are stacked in gravity-defying towers.
The Haunting: The Hollowed (1d6) are here, polishing the walls with their bare hands until the metal shines like a mirror. They do not attack unless a player breaks a tower.
3. The Nursery (Hydroponics Bay A)
The nutrient tanks have been drained of chemicals and filled with a thick, golden fluid (Alendar ichor).
The Sight: Several "favored" victims are suspended in the fluid, kept in a state of perpetual, dream-filled stasis. They look younger and healthier than they ever did in life.
The Horror: If a tank is broken, the fluid evaporates instantly, and the victim within withers into a husk in seconds, screaming a name—usually a player's name.
4. The Throne of Cold Light (Climate Control Center)
This is the heart of the lair. The temperature is near freezing, yet the room is filled with illusory copper-leaved trees and the scent of jasmine.
The Alendar: It sits atop a "throne" made of repurposed server racks and fused glass. It is currently "feeding"—a thread of white light connects its forehead to a terminal displaying the station's crew manifest.
The Layout: The room is a circle of glass and steel. The Alendar uses the high-ground of the control catwalks to rain down psychic attacks.
Lair Actions (Initiative 20)
While in its lair, the Alendar can trigger one of the following effects:
Oxygen Depletion: The Alendar commands the station to "breath." Oxygen levels drop; players must use their suit tanks or suffer Exhaustion.
Phantasmagoria: The copper trees "lash out." This is a psychic attack. Players see their worst failures manifest as physical threats.
Gravity Pulse: The Alendar reverses gravity for one round. Anyone not mag-locked to the floor falls "up" toward the ceiling spikes (repurposed industrial sensors).
The Loot: What Remains
If the crew defeats the Alendar and survives the sector's collapse:
3d6 Soul-Gems: Highly illegal, but worth a fortune on the black market (or can be used as "extra lives" if crushed and inhaled).
The Martian Needle: A slender, glass-like dagger that ignores armor but deals damage to the wielder's Sanity on a critical hit.
Ancient Data: The Alendar’s terminal contains coordinates to a "City of Glass" on the Martian poles—a potential hook for the next mission.
When the crew finally breaches the Throne of Cold Light, the Alendar does not rise. It remains seated, its slender fingers tracing the glowing data streams of the station’s life support. It doesn’t speak with its mouth—instead, its voice blooms inside the crew’s minds like a cold, fragrant flower.
It sounds like a memory of someone you loved and lost, but distorted by a billion years of distance.
The Alendar's Monologue
"Do not be so quick to raise those iron toys. They are so... heavy. So loud. So temporary.
You call this place a 'station.' You see metal, and wires, and the ticking of clocks. I see a tomb. You are ants crawling across the face of a dead god, congratulating yourselves on how well you navigate its wrinkles.
My people were old when your Earth was still a boiling drop of mud. We drank the light of stars you will never name. We walked through the gardens of Pharol when the red sands were oceans of wine. And now? Now I find only this. A world of grease, and plastic, and the frantic, stinking fear of animals who know their sun is growing cold.
Why do you fight me? I am not a killer. I am a gardener. I take the ragged, screaming mess of your 'identities'—your debts, your shames, your petty, sweating hungers—and I smooth them into silence. Look at my Hollowed. Do they look afraid? Do they worry about the air running thin or the company's ledger?
They are beautiful now. They are art.
Come. Lay down your burdens. The void is so very cold, and your souls are such warm, flickering candles. Let me snuff the flame... so that you may finally see the stars."
How to use this in-game:
The Psychic Pressure: As the Alendar speaks, have the players make a Sanity/Willpower Check. Those who fail find their weapons suddenly feel too heavy to lift (disadvantage on their first initiative roll).
The Sensory Shift: Describe the smell of jasmine becoming so thick it tastes like copper in their mouths. The industrial hum of the station fades, replaced by the sound of a distant, ancient wind.
The Reveal: As it says "Let me snuff the flame," the Alendar finally stands. Its height is unsettling—nearly seven feet tall—and its golden eyes flash with a predatory light that makes the station’s emergency strobes look like dim embers.
In the world of Northwest Smith, the Shambleau is perhaps the most iconic and terrifying creature—a cosmic parasite that creates a lethal symbiosis of pleasure and horror. In the industrial, high-stress environment of Orbital Decay, the Shambleau represents the ultimate "escape" from the crushing weight of space.
Physiology: The Scarlet Horror
To the casual observer, a Shambleau in its "hunting" phase appears as a pathetic, beautiful woman (or occasionally a man) wrapped in a heavy, voluminous cloak.
The Hair: Underneath the hood lies the creature's true form. Instead of hair, thick, scarlet, leathery tendrils grow from its scalp. Each tendril is a semi-autonomous organism with a mind of its own.
The Feed: It does not eat flesh. It feeds on the vitality of the nervous system. Its tendrils latch onto the victim’s sensory nodes, pumping them with a chemical that triggers a state of absolute, shattering ecstasy while it slowly drains their life-force.
The Addiction: Once a human has been "tasted" by a Shambleau, they rarely want to be saved. The "joy" the creature provides is more addictive than any drug in the Red Room universe.
The Shambleau (Stat Block)
Type: Extradimensional Parasite / Energy Vampire
Environment: Hidden corners, maintenance shafts, or crew quarters.
Attribute Effect Pitiable Mask While cloaked, the Shambleau radiates a "Weakness" aura. Anyone attempting to harm it must pass a Sanity/Willpower Check or feel an overwhelming need to protect it. The Red Lashing In combat, it attacks with 1d10 tendrils. Each hit deals minimal physical damage but forces a Willpower Save. Failure results in the character becoming "Stunned" by pleasure. Psychic Link If a Shambleau successfully latches onto a victim, it begins a Slow Drain. Every hour, the victim loses 1 point of Permanent Constitution/Stamina. Encountering a Shambleau in Orbital Decay
Unlike the Alendar, who is a conqueror, the Shambleau is a stowaway.
The Discovery: The crew finds a "refugee" hiding in the cargo bay, shivering under a scarlet shawl. They claim to be a survivor from a destroyed station, fleeing a "corporate hit squad."
The Nest: If brought aboard, the Shambleau will pick one crew member (usually the one with the highest Stress) as its "host." It will lead them to a dark corner of the ship where the "feeding" begins.
The Transformation: Over days, the host becomes gaunt and pale, yet refuses to leave the cargo bay. They become violent if anyone tries to "separate" them from their new "friend."
Tactical Weaknesses
The Shambleau is physically fragile but psychically overwhelming.
Mirror/Optic Sensors: The Shambleau’s primary lure is visual and psychic. Robots or crew members viewing it through a digital camera feed are immune to its "Pitiable Mask" and "Ecstasy" effects.
Extreme Heat: The creature is a thing of the "cold void." Fire or plasma torches deal double damage and cause the tendrils to retract in agony.
The "Cold" Raygun: In Moore's stories, Northwest Smith's heat-beam is the only thing the creature truly fears. In Orbital Decay, high-output energy weapons are essential; bullets merely pass through the rubbery tendrils.
The Horror of the "Kiss"
"It was a red, slimy thing, a thing of the pits, a thing of the outer darkness... and yet, Smith felt a joy so deep it was like a knife in his soul. He didn't want to be saved. He wanted to drown in that red, writhing sea."
The Mechanical Twist: If a PC is rescued from a Shambleau, they suffer a permanent "Shambleau Scar." Every time they are in a high-stress situation, they must check to see if they experience a "flashback" to the creature's ecstasy, potentially causing them to freeze in place during combat.
When a Shambleau nests within the industrial confines of a space station or ship, its extradimensional biology begins to bleed into the local reality. This isn't just biological growth; it is a "softening" of physics, turning cold steel into something approaching organic, sentient meat.
D100: Shambleau Environmental Mutations
d100 Mutation Effect Mechanical/Narrative Impact 01-05 The Pulse Bulkheads begin to expand and contract rhythmically. The sound of a slow, wet heartbeat echoes through the deck. 06-10 Scarlet Condensation A thick, red mist coats all surfaces. It is slippery like oil and smells faintly of rotted lilies. 11-15 Veined Wiring Electrical cables lose their plastic coating, replaced by translucent, pulsing veins. Touching them causes a 1d4 psychic shock. 16-20 Softened Steel The floor becomes spongy and yielding. Running through this area counts as Difficult Terrain. 21-25 The Eye in the Wall A knot in the metal plating peels open to reveal a human-like eye that follows the crew's movement. 26-30 Pheromone Leak The air filtration system begins pumping out a sweet, hallucinogenic gas. PCs must pass a Stamina Check or lose all sense of time. 31-35 Tendril Vents Small, scarlet "hairs" grow out of every air vent. They recoil from flashlight beams but snatch at loose items (keys, ammo). 36-40 Melted Architecture Right angles begin to curve. Doorways become oval and "fleshy," requiring a Strength check to "pry" open the muscular seal. 41-45 The Moaning Pipes Steam pipes no longer hiss; they emit low, ecstatic groans when pressure is released. 46-50 Sentient Shadows Shadows cast by the crew detach from the floor and linger for 1d6 seconds after the PC has moved on. 51-55 Biological Static Video feeds show a writhing mass of red worms instead of the room. Audio captures whispers in a dead Martian dialect. 56-60 The Feeding Well A floor drain becomes a localized gravity sink. It tries to pull the smallest crew member toward it like a mouth. 61-65 Ecstatic Fever The ambient temperature rises to 102°F (39°C). The crew feels a strange, lethargic "glow" that reduces Initiative by -2. 66-70 Flesh-fused Tech A keypad or terminal is covered in a layer of skin. To use it, one must "massage" the correct sensory nodes. 71-75 The Scarlet Bloom Large, fungal-looking flowers grow from the ceiling. They drip a corrosive, red nectar that eats through hazard suits. 76-80 Translucent Hull The hull plating becomes clear like jelly. The crew can see the stars, but the stars seem to be "watching" back. 81-85 Auditory Hallucinations Every crew member hears their mother’s voice calling them from the dark end of the corridor. 86-90 Limb Mimicry A PC’s own hand briefly turns into a cluster of three scarlet tendrils before snapping back to normal. 91-95 Atmospheric Thickening The air becomes "liquid." PCs can "swim" through the air, but drowning/suffocation rules apply if they exert themselves. 96-00 The Final Gestation The room becomes a literal womb. The exit seals shut with bone-like struts. The Shambleau's "song" becomes deafening. The "Nesting" Mechanics
If the crew does not find and kill the Shambleau within 48 hours, the mutations become permanent.
Sector Contamination: Once a sector reaches "Biological Static" (51+), it is no longer salvageable. The company will likely order the entire module to be jettisoned or incinerated.
Psychic Resonance: PCs with a "High Sanity" score are actually more susceptible to these mutations. Their minds are "finer instruments" that the Shambleau can play more easily.
The Cure: Only Extreme Heat or Deep Vacuum can revert these mutations. If the sector is depressurized, the "flesh" turns to gray, brittle ash instantly.
The Visual Horror
"The ship wasn't made of steel anymore. It was made of hunger. Every time I stepped on the floor, I felt it... it wasn't just metal under my boots. It was skin. Warm, damp skin that liked the weight of me." — Survivor of the Icarus-9 Incident
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