It seems strange now as I write these words that the single best roleplaying game of all time should be one in which the investigators go steadily insane while investigating the machinations of eldritch gods that are both all powerful and unfathomable.
Not a slave to the twenty sided die was this squamous horror. No - only a hundred sided die was strong enough to contain the madness of the mythos. But wait, as I type these words what is that noise I hear outside my benighted Arkham garret? The key turns in the lock...
Where is my elder sign, carved from whalebone by Old Man Orne in Innsmouth? I fear they have found me, just as surely as you, gentle reader, have found the Fan Boy Three page for the Call of Cthulhu Roleplaying Game, now in its seventh and most playable incarnation. I should probably stop typing and flee, but like the hero of a Lovecraft novella I am feeling the need to stay typing up everything that is happening to me even as the monsters close in.
The monsters? Oh, yes. Turns out I was one of them and they were bringing me lunch. What a twist of Lovecraftian proportions. There's even a starter set that comes with a solo scenario. You can play alone, by candlelight, in the house by the old burying ground... if you dare. <insert mad cackling>
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