Wild Space
In the spirit of writing more, inspired by the jaw-dropping 1100+ posts that the GLOG community apparently churned out in 2025 (!!!), here is yet 1 more post, quickly-born.
Early in 2025, I started a home game called Wild Sky, featuring four of my most lovely friends. It's been a big change from the past few years of running semi-open tables. It's been 12 sessions of adventure. It's been saving faded kingdoms and beating up necromancers. It's been sky pirates and dragons who cannot lie. It's been a blast.
So of course I started thinking, what if I took the high adventure feel and globe-trotting structure of Wild Sky and shot it into space?
Disclaimer: I'm aware "wildspace" is a Spelljammer term. As far as I know, it means "point-of-light/pocket of materiality in the otherwise irreal Astral Sea"? Is that correct? Who knows. That's a convenient touchstone, plus "Wild Space" sounds like "Wild Sky" so...
Consider what follows a taster, not a true primer!
Somewhere in Wild Space
An assassin waits atop a roof on the outskirts of a dusty town. He's not a ghost, not right now, not while piloting this pilfered human. Whatever you might call him, he carefully loads a tiny IOUN rod into one side of his void blaster. The other half is already loaded: a translucent pod swirling with flux. Pull the trigger, introduce IOUN to flux, and pop will go the wards on the priest riding that parade float...
The flashlight app on your gPhone is the only light in the dark hold. Somewhere, maybe just one or two bulkheads away, another thump followed by an agonized squeal. You try to send one last text to your brother, but the gPhone light fizzles, fades...the ship must be getting too far from the gaia field of that stupid fucking cursed planet by now...
A sleek shuttle alights on the landing pad, a moth of delicate silver. Behind it, lurid purple jungle stretches off to the horizon. The ambassador waits at the edge of the pad, nervous. When the ramp hisses, and cold moist air rushes out, she holds out a hand to be shaken by the dark coil of tendril emerging from the belly of the ship...
Your lander skims over the smooth grey mountaintops, search-beams stabbing down into valleys that have never been touched by light. He's down there, you repeat to yourself, he's down there alive. The spell was strong enough to keep the ghouls off his scent for hours. So he must be down there, alive...
A young man holds his breath, hidden behind a pillar of crystallized screams. Out in the main hall, the demon lord stalks him. Another pillar is vaporized, and the man suppresses a flinch. His crew is dead, but the ship is just beyond those doors...and he still has the stone...
On the third day, you sight the edge of a town on the horizon, flickering in the heat. Looking back at the dying boy fastened to your zorse, you mutter one last prayer and dig in the spurs...
Good Intentions
What do I want to do with Wild Space? I want to write about it. I want to convert some of the potential energy swirling around my head lately into words we can read. I probably want to run it as another open table in what my friends have taken to calling "the Greater Virginia Polycule" even though I insist this all kicked off in New York...
For now, I want to use the permission to be boundaryless that this concept provides to get some frickin' posts in!
Blog Archaeology
Drawing heavily on this post over at Lair of the Dusk Witch because it seemed like a great format for tone-posting.