Known Heaps (you know, the STACK GANGs) #
To Shield against the malevolent Flatmen, and more importantly, the Trash Corps that protect their 2D and 3D astral planes, some STACK GANGs have become “HEAPS.”
HEAPS are terrifying zeitgeist monstrosities. They can no longer FALL TO PIECES. They are each as one single consciousness, a horrible mass of connected and disconnected flesh.
HEAPS are unity, they’re communities, they are the will of a nation, refined to a single individual macroorganism.
HEAPS are always looking for STACK GANGs to recruit into their flesh ziggurat empire.
In general, the HEAPS run the different boroughs.
You gotta get in with the local HEAPS to mingle with the peeps. Is that alright? That’s the way, that it is.
1 Heap 0xAAAAAAAA #
Damage as Modest Beast
- Disgusted at the pitiful size of your STACK GANG.
- Actively measuring nearby STACK GANGs.
- Going in and out of a flesh chrysalis imagos form. Strange pink light emanates.
- Eating lunch.
- Stomping around angry that the shift meal isn’t ready.
- Plotting to destroy the 2D astral plane.
Heap 0xAAAAAAA runs the north-western quadrant of the city. They only care about HUNGER and SHAME. Other emotions don’t matter, and aren’t accepted into their flesh pile. They don’t even care about the Flatmen, they just want more.
Target must Test their Luck or be subject to hunger pains worse than they’ve ever experienced in their cosmic existence.
2 Heap 0xBBBBBBBB, “Poets” #
Damage as Gigantic Beast
- Percussive slam poetry at 106 dB.
- Combin’ its huge mane.
- Sharpening its teeth on a belt grinder.
- Eating glass.
- Bleeding a river into the city.
- Screaming endlessly about how it’s all just art.
Devoted to inane concepts like ART, ARTISTRY, and PERSONAL EXPRESSION. If you aren’t a pretentious artist, you cannot join this HEAP. It inhabits the bottom floors of the south-south-western geofront, bordering the eternal watch of the trash corps. For all it’s whining and complaining, about the relevance of art in society, it is the front of the war with the Flatmen… consuming STACK GANGs at such a rate, the other HEAPS are concerned.
Consume a STACK GANG, +1d3 Stamina per stack.
3 Heap 0xCCCCCCCC, “TrashHeap” #
Damage as Gigantic Beast
- Whistling like steam valves on a nuclear reactor about to blow.
- Singing songs of unity about Filth.
- Birthing 1d3 plasmic cores. Unexplainable.
- Engaging in 4-d cubism projected into 3D space.
- Passinging knives between stacks very quickly, creating a giant series of chainsaws.
- Reading every page of War and Peace at once.
Comprised mostly of pitiful Trashmen that survived being stuffed in a trash can and riding the filth. It commands the sewers, and knows what’s at the bottom1 of everything. Sympathetic to the trash corps, knowing they’re duty-bound to protect the boundary between the 2D and 3D astral planes.
They are still unliked.
By focusing on a target, it will fully fill with stacks piped up from the sewers, and violently explode in 3d3 rounds, when at critical mass.
4 Heap 0xDDDDDDDD, “Martial Cube” #
Damage as Gigantic Beam Saber (Gigantic Beast)
- Doing breathing exercises.
- Juggling morningstars.
- Doing lunges in hot pants.
- Doing pullups on the side of an airship.
- Doing squats on an overpass, horrifying everyone beneath.
- Waiting to spring like a venus flytrap on an unsuspecting target.
Martial Cube does what Martial Cube wants. It wears a conflicting insignia to spark madness in the minds of the viewers. It stands over the spaceport, letting no ships enter unless they match the changing patterns across its body. There is no martial art it does not know—even when a new one is invented, Martial Cube already knows it.
Has 1 of every weapon. Even those not yet invented. Even a Global Thermonuclear Warhead (which it will not use). It can reconfigure any weapon to operate as any other weapon.
Martial Cube offers training in any martial art a STACK GANG would want.
5 Heap 0xEEEEEEEE #
Damage as Small Beast
- Knitting a new sweater (1d6 arms).
- Doing scrimshaw into a skull, telling the story of how they became a HEAP. Honestly, it’s kind of boring. They were at the same art gallery for a noise-rap show, and it just happened—it was a match made in STACK heaven.
- Considering claiming that one of the planets is actually a slice of chorizo in outer space.
- Praying to Nibiru.
- Drawing a map to Lemuria from memory.
The Smallest of HEAPs. SO SMALL it can masquerade as a couple of STACK GANGs at an art gallery opening or a backyard BBQ.
They run the radio stations, pirate and not. You get no choices.
They can communicate with anyone in the city, whether or not they are previously connected or even know they existed prior.
6 Heap 0xFFFFFFFF, “Marnies” #
Damage as Gigantic Beast
- Having an annoyed phone conversation.
- Awkwardly making eye contact, even though they’ve made out in the past. Shocking2.
- Getting a new job. Again.
- Just not feeling like drinking tonight.
- Mad at someone who hurled a beer off their balcony.
- Just driving around, because apparently there’s a car big enough to fit MARNIES.
A HEAP COMPRISED ONLY OF PEOPLE NAMED MARNIE. That’s the only requirement for joining this HEAP. Its a disorganized mess, held together by name alone.
This HEAP runs the transcriptionist guilds. Nothing is written without this HEAP knowing what happened.
None can hide from MARNIEs.
This HEAP knows everything about everyone. The good and the bad, the skeletons in the closet. They can guess what they’re about to do, too.
Everyone wants to be with them. Like wake up in the middle of the night and come talk to them and stuff.