A major theme of this story is power, and the necessity to wield it responsibly. We live in a world where mankind has already seized enough power to destroy himself, and even the world. And, as we know from our timeline, the call to power poisons the weak mind, leading them into a vicious cycle of greed and acquisition that tears a swath through countless innocents before inevitably leading to their own ruin--usually far too late to achieve any sort of justice. And that's just a world of mundane power. What if magic were real? Or ultra-tech indistinguishable from the same?

This isn't a new theme to the world of literature, of course. Around the turn of the last century, artists took note of the direction we were heading, and began to imagine ultimate power--and its consequences. Lovecraft imagined Science showing us truths we were not Meant to know; Tolkien invisioned dark lords of terrible magic, just prior to achieving unstoppable power, prompting a call for all good men to rise up for a desperate attempt at freedom. And sure enough, these terrors came to pass. The great wars proved the doomsayers right--and today we live on a knife's edge, with the power to destroy all of mankind, or even the very biosphere of our home world, given away at a political whim to men evil (or stupid) enough to use it.

I don't have too much to add to this theme that hasn't already been done, but I do think it's a perfectly reasonable theme to grant a central place in this story. Not only do the party's enemies obviously play into this theme--evil corporations and shadowy government agencies presume to command powers they don't understand, and innocent people suffer the consequences--but the PCs themselves each have a personal connection to this as well. They all have power, and have all made mistakes with it in the past. But unlike the antagonists, they have resolved to use their power to set the world to right, if they can. They aren't the heroes the world deserves, but they're the ones they're gonna get.

To a certain extent, the current state of the world (i.e. filled with monsters and constantly in need of a reboot) is Your Fault. And that means you, PC Who Is Reading This Now.

Each PC personally took an action which directly led to the destruction of their home timeline, and their subsequent exile from residence in any fixed Universe. And yet, somehow, each other PC also did.

Hyacinth

Hyacinth did something with some sort of ultra-tech device, courtesy of Paradox, Inc. Details TBD

Coyote

As is well-recorded, he set this whole thing in motion by stealing magic and giving it to humans. He doesn't recall exactly how that went, but it totally sounds like something he would do.

Vicki's PC

Working idea: she used Paradox ultra-tech (combined with her l33t hacking and Science! skill) to build a communication device to contact her dimensional pen-pal, thus sucking her out of her own dimension and into a wild, fantastic ride filled with dragons and psionics, both of which have become elements of her newfound supernatural power.

This might mean she is at fault for her own state (and perhaps things in her fantasy realm), but maybe not her own timeline? That might be an interesting difference--calming to her psyche, perhaps, but a potential source of alienation with the rest of the party.

Warlock

No working ideas at the moment, but it isn't hard to imagine how he fucked over the Universe.

While some may be content to raid tombs and steal from the dead (while honing their skills in the process), you've got very different goals. On the surface, your motive is obvious: with great power comes great responsibility, after all--you know how to stop the monsters, so go stop those monsters. The reward is the smile on that little kid's face when you save his mommy. Or whatever.

But on a meta level, what rewards do the players get for playing well, considering that they can fail and still survive? Obviously, there are no material rewards suitable for this game. But a sense of pride and accomplishment isn't quite enough, either. There ought to be something mechanical, if not material. And thus:

Bonds

While you can't take anything with you when you jump Universes, and even if you save one, you'll never see those same people again, that doesn't mean it doesn't make a difference, or that you don't take anything with you. When you form an emotional connection with someone (or something, for that matter), you create a Bond, and that Bond stretches across the dimensions, always remaining with you.

A Bond is a very ephemeral thing, but can be measured in-game simply enough: it's just a number that accumulates when the DM says it does. What's it for? Well, we'll get to that later.

For now, it suffices to understand that the true goal of the PCs, even if they aren't conscious of it, is to achieve a sense of community, of belonging--to form bonds in an uncaring Multiverse that has cast them apart from all other beings in existence, cursed to outlive everyone they meet, cursed to wander the dimension, eternally dispossessed. That kind of desolation can destroy anyone, and so they cling to one another, and form what Bonds they can, to fight against the gaping maw of Infinity arrayed against them.

Heavy, right?

Material

Although "you can't take it with you" has never been more real (or more a pain in the ass) than it is for these four, each PC has some small way to skirt those limitations.

Hyacinth's dimensional technology allows her to take objects and non-sentient creatures with her, provided they fit within her Garage of Holding. For now, that's all the space she has, so she might well fill it up early, resulting in some awkward Sophie's Choices later on. And, frustratingly, it quite specifically cannot be used to rescue any sentient lifeform from its doomed Universe.

Vicki's PC collects Eidolons. They are astral simulacra of creatures she encounters in other Universes; not necessarily the "real being" or it's "soul" (if such a thing exists), but more than a mere simulation. They are quite capable of all thoughts, emotion, and communication they once had, even if their "realness" is arguable (and likely unresolvable, even with a bevy of arch-philosphers to debate about it). They have no permanent physical forms--they are made of pure thought--but she can give them temporary bodies identical to the ones they once had.

Working idea for Coyote: when he does something heroic, something truly worthy, he gains a new tattoo commemorating that achievement. He may be able to use these in the future, perhaps in a manner similar to an Aspect (i.e. tapping it for Inspiration). They may likely often pair with new Bonds.

Working idea for the warlock: Contacts. True Outsiders lie outside (duh) the limited "dimensions" of mere mortals. In other words, they are not constrained to one Universe, but exists in all of them, or at least in the space between. This makes them extremely valuable as contacts--if not allies, though such a thing seems impossible given their general attitude toward humans, sentients, or beings made out of any sort of resolvable logic (or "filthy rotten stinking sanelings" as they sometimes call them).

Threads of Fate

After each jump, one PC is possession of a Thread of Fate. Its exact physical form changes depending on how that reality works, adn who is holding it. But the effect is the same: the object is completely invulnerable, may have various abilities or powers, but can be destroyed by Hyacinth's knife (Midnight). Should it be destroyed, it will unravel the entire reality in which the PCs currently exist, destroying everything--including whatever monsters might be eating away at reality.

This trump card allows the PCs to triumph over any adversary--however powerful--if at the cost of their own lives, and that of every other human in existence, and all animals, and all planets and solar systems and galaxies, and whatever else out there than can experience that loss.

It is advisable not to destroy every Universe you come across, and preferably to find and prevent that Universe's particular Apocalypse, for reasons that will become clear over time, but hopefully are at least morally obvious from the start.

If you successfully destroy the The Adversary in a Universe, you will phase into a new one, without destroying the Universe. Well done! As a reward, you keep the Thread in future jumps. It may gain a small, useful power; and it well may prove useful in the long run.

Paradox is a measurement of the deviation of a given reality from the expected norms (vis-a-vis magic and hyper-technology) of that reality.

After each jump, it is always zero. Each new reality begins in a state where everything--in the reckoning of those who live there--is perfectly fine, and normal, and nothing to be alarmed about.

That may mean that magic doesn't exist, elves and unicorns are fairy tails, and all is well. It may mean that lizardfolk rule the world, sentient giraffes can wield magical power, and humans are but their slaves. Whatever the norm is, that is what people believe it to be.

Paradox increases when anyone (PCs or otherwise) takes actions that enlighten the general public (not just a few individuals) that the world might work differently than it seems. In a mundane universe, overt magic will create Paradox. In a highly magical universe, hyper-technology may have the same effect.

Paradox never decreases (for the purposes of this game). It can only stay the same, or increase. If it ever reaches 100...the game is over. That universe is doomed, for magical (or technological, or whatever) forces will compound upon themselves until all is lost.

Interestingly, Paradox determines how powerful your own supernatural (or high-tech) abilities are. (Exact rules TBD, but higher Paradox = more power)

If you do nothing, other actors will increase Paradox over time.

Paradox 100 is always the moment when something--whatever it was--reaches the critical point, where no conceivable action can prevent a runaway chain reaction that inevitably destroys the Universe.

Weirdness is a measure of how "weird" a Universe is. This might mean how magical it is, but it could just as well refer to a level of technological achievement, or even just actual weirdness, like a world where humankind is enslaved by giraffes. In any case, a Universe has a set level of weirdness, which does not change. Paradox always begins at 0, and as it increases, it represents a deviation from that Universe's "normal", not some grand, absolute measure of normalcy.

Highly-weird Universes allow for stranger things to happen. If it isn't weird to whip out a fireball in this Universe, then you can feel free to do so without accruing much Paradox. In fact, in such a Universe, your magic is amplified, and flows more freely.

Universes toward the low end of the Weirdness spectrum are much like the mundane world. Paradox accumulates fast from the smallest deviation. Magic does not flow easily, but then again, monsters aren't as powerful. Non-magical heroes will thrive here, although any particularly weird tech might cause its own problems.

In addition to the obvious advantages and disadvantages, there is another level of importance for Weirdness. A major aspect of the game, over the long term, is figuring out the broader mystery at play. Perhaps you'll need to talk to Person X to learn Secret Y, or to dig up Site Z to learn some grand revelation about your plight. The problem is, in a Weird universe, all those things are pretty different from your own, so how useful will the knowledge even be? Learning about human organizations, finding specific people, etc, will all be better suited to a low-Weirdness universe.

Whereas, you also all need to face the origins of your power, to battle your personal demons, and ultimately accept your supernatural side, in order to truly actualize as Heroes. To do this, you'll probably want to travel to Weird worlds, where your own power waxes, approaching critical mass. Of course, your own power may take a stranger form there, due to said Weirdness, and you need not read too much into that form. It's Weird, after all.

I'm not sure if Weirdness will have a specific numeral rating. I'm thinking, if anything, it's a pretty short scale:

Every character is armed with a "supermove" that effectively works once per loop. It is well outside normal "moves" (i.e. actions allowed by the basic combat system), in that its power is well beyond those norms, but its consequence is rather hefty as well.

Midnight (Hyacinth)

Hyacinth possesses a short blade (knife-length), which she first encountered in a vision quest some years ago, seemingly divinely granted, and has kept close to her ever since.

Midnight is an ancient weapon, designed with a singular purpose--to oppose Magic. It is a supreme instrument to wield against magic, monsters, or anything that ought not to exist. It can nullfy magic, cut through magical defenses, and even--so sayeth legends--slay any magical being, even a god.

She uses the weapon sparingly, for various reasons (not the least of which is that she doesn't understand it, as it itself appears to violate the laws of physics, or at least exist well outside well-known boundaries of science).

Dragon Soul (Vicki)

Working idea: she channels her Other Self, becoming the Dragon for a brief period. Besides being Super Saiyan, the Dragon has a very rare and valuable power: command of Time itself. Being able to rewind time, or see into the future, would be a powerful ability indeed.

Skinwalker (Coyote)

Shapeshifting? Divine form? TBD

Warlock

TBD

Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. But only one tends to destroy the Universe.

In Weird worlds, monsters may well be natives (i.e. orcs, goblins, and the like). Beyond that, there are Outsiders--truly nasty, and difficult to kill, but not unique to a Universe (in fact, they exist outside the bounds of single Universes).

But there is only one Adversary.

He isn't a specific being. In one Universe, he might be a demon. In other, a psionically-empowered agent of the Protocol. Heck, he might just be a motivational speaker who stops pepping up businessmen to improve their quotas and instead talks an entire world into embracing nihilistic bliss. The form (and power level) is unique, and a function of that Universe's Weirdness and unique characteristics.

The spark is always the same: power.

The Adversary comes into being at the moment when someone or something reaches "critical mass", where the desire for more power and ability to achieve it exceed the difficulty and guilt or shame (if any), and it compounds upon itself. The Adversary, once activated, is a ticking time bomb; depending on his specific characteristics and powers, you might have weeks or months...or you might have mere minutes. There is a window between when he comes into being, and when he is simply too powerful to kill, and you must sever the Thread of this Universe to prevent him from devouring all of it, and growing beyond his Universe to devour All Creation.

The implicit goal of each jump is to predict when and where the Adversary will appear, learn how to stop him (it's generally more complex than "hit him very hard with guns and spells"), and arrive in time to do so. If you find him before he appears, you may well be able to abort him entirely (e.g. murdering someone who was destined to become him in a little while). You'll know you succeeded if you exit the Universe. Of course, you'll remember what you did.

More often, the Adversary does come into being, and you must combat him in some way, specific to that form. There will always be some sort of curveball--perhaps you need aggravated damage, or his true name, or the power of Love--whatever it is, figuring it out in time to stop him is a core part of the gameplay. Of course, the Adversary will likely be powerful in his own right, requiring full engagement of your abilities, commensurate with the level of Weirdness this Universe has, and how much power you've allowed him to accumulate beyond his inception (measured as Paradox beyond 100, scaling to Infinity).

On a longer scale, one goal is to figure out the true nature of the Adversary, and if there is any way to stop him for good.