Welcome to Uncle Jim's World of Narkness!
The only RPG with Megalomania!

Welcome to the amazing World of Narkness, the only RPG that's so cool and full of itself that it doesn't need a cohesive setting or set of rules! SOON TO BE CONVERTED INTO A SETTING FOR D&D 3RD ED. Here's a map of the World of Narkness.


Pisser! Let me make a character for this shit!
About the map, and the people who live on a much bigger representation of it.
The proudly raised middle finger contains the dreaded Northen Desert, where the vicious elves live. The wrist is the nation of Bzandag, the birthplace of civilization, the most cultured land to ever exist in the annals of history. It's the homeland of the Orcs. the backside of the palm is poppulated mainly by the goblinoid race: the midget hobgoblins, the 6 ft goblins, and the gargantuan kobolds. They're all the same species, just different subspecies. the mighty, towering kobolds eke out a living in the forestd of the back-palm, hunting, foraging, and living in anarcho-socialist collectives. The midsize sporty coup that is the goblin race lives along the shores and riverbanks of the back-palm, fishing, frolicking, and living in anarcho-socialist collectives. The vertically challenged hobgoblins live in the plains of the back-palm and live off of rodents, tubors, grasses, the occasional human who goes irrevocably mad, and are anarcho-socialist collective livers to the last. The Chronatogs have eked out a living in the left most finger of the continent, the Necratogs have eked out a living in the second finger of the continent, the atogs have eked out a living in the lower half of the middle finger just below the Northen Desert, the Foratogs in the next finger, and the Auratogs in the last one. Also living in the fingers are some of the many Mephits who have fled the elemental planes to escape religious descrimination. Their religion apparently ammounts to marrying their own cousins and preaching about the evils of celibacy and self-denial while smoking various holy plants to receive Divine Revelation. Half-elves, the lovable losers of the cross-breeding game, the Florida Marlins of the result of unsafe inter-special sex (the not so lovable loser of unsafe inter-special sex being, of course, mind-bogglingly horrendous inter-species STDs), Half-Elves live all over the place, and many are well respected members of society. They blend in with whatever culture their non-elven material is best suited for. Awhile ago the Elves charged down from their Northern Desert en mass and pillaged and raped their way all the way down to Bzandag, where they were repelled by the Orcish task mage assembly, who used their great existentialist and magical prowess by conjuring forth massive balls of carp and throwing them at them. The elves, who were a bit fagged out from all that raping and pillaging, were in no shape, mental or physical, to handle this onslought and most of them fled back up north. A few of them who had woken up late and had missed the raping segment of the grand elven world tour of destruction copulated with the fish madly. The Orcs restrained them and brought them to labs for various studies. A bizarre Orcish eco-terrorist anarchist group known as Concerned Orcs for Gaea raided the labs, looking for mothers day presents, and, in a fit of sheer boredom, did unspeakable and unnatural things to the elves, which resulted in the birth of the Erc race. The Ercs, ashamed of both their brutish elven backround and their brutish Eco-terrorist backround, migrated to the sewers of Bzandag, where they live to this day. Not all Elf-Orc crossbreeds are Ercs, but all Ercs are or are descended from Elf-Orc crossbreeds. Their strong elvish genes have adapted well to life in the harsh sewers of Bzandag, making them, in short, very unpleasant to be around. It's because of this self-created social rejection that the Ercish race is full of so much angst, which they express through their brilliant poetry. Most humans live on Infernal Bureaucracy Island, a continent on the other side of the planet shaped much like a great, fiendish, diabolic, wholey evil bavarian creme donut. It is a sad, unhappy place, where no one ever has a good time, no matter how much liquor they drink. A relatively small number of humans lives on the happier, funner side of the planet. These humans have either escaped from the Arcane Bureaucracy, and are usually therefor the World of Narkness equivalent of deadheads and the like, or they were brought from there, kicking and screaming as slaves from the time back before when everyone realized what terrible slaves the demented little buggers made. The humans who play productive roles in society are ones that have fully rejected the Arcane Bureaucracy, and as such they tend to worship Eris as their Divine Savior from the horror that is mundanity.

Are you laughing? crying? bored? horny? a foxy young lady in her teens, preferably just a bit on the chubby side, shortish, with back hair, and a really, REALLY open mind? Email me and tell me how much this sucks!