Credits and Dedications

White Leviathan is dedicated to Herman Melville, whose epic novel Moby-Dick is the scenario’s guiding light. I have looted Moby-Dick for countless treasures and inspirations, from Captain Joab’s sunny disposition to the titular White Leviathan itself. Also of supreme importance have been three works of nonfiction: Clifford Ashley’s The Yankee Whaler, A.B.C. Whipple’s The Whalers, and Nathaniel Philbrick’s In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex. From the first two I learned the ins and outs of whaling, the equipment, and the dangers faced by whalers every day; and from Philbrick’s stirring account I borrowed a rough outline of the Quiddity’s first year at sea. I am greatly indebted to Philbrick for his lively reconstructions of Nantucket, Atacames, and the Galápagos Islands. A comprehensive list of White Leviathan’s sources and inspirations is found in the “Bibliography.”

I would like to thank my fellow gamers who helped me develop and playtest White Leviathan. There’s Chris Gross and Jon Fetter, who quietly co-Keepered the original version of this scenario at the 2001 NecronomiCon in Providence. There’s Don Coatar and his Chicago group, who playtested the campaign as I was writing it, offering constructive feedback over email. This “larboard watch” included Carl Benninghouse, Jeff “Mr. Shiny” Carey, Ted Douvas, Andrew Ediger, Chris Fitch, Scott Groves, Tony Messerges, Glenn Sandstrom, and Bruce Taylor. And finally, my own amazing players, who constituted the Brooklyn “starboard watch”: Tammy Duncan, Michael Glavin, Tim Hutchings, Kelly Ohannessian, Judie Ryer, Rob Stoll, Scary Mary, and Jeff Turick. A captain couldn’t ask for a better crew! (They also gracefully weathered my obsession with sea shanties.) Additional thanks to Dan Aymar-Blair, Richard Behrens, Michael Fink, Kent McNellie, Andrew Wasmuth, Scott Youmans, and Alan Zelenetz, all of whom offered me ideas, support, and suggestions.

I would like to thank a few academic consultants. Father Bo Reynolds gave me advice on religion in early Massachusetts and the politics of colonial churches. American literature professor and horror novelist Michael Cisco was my sounding board on Poe, Melville, and Lovecraft, and allowed me to borrow his magnificent phrase “baleful neutrality.” Historian Ryan Carey offered his expertise on nineteenth-century America, cheerfully answering my questions about the period’s culture and politics. (“Dude—you have to include the Wilkes Expedition! It was essential to the construction of the Pacific in the imagination of the developing American empire. And Wilkes was a model for Ahab! Dude—!”) Gabriel Mesa offered his kind assistance with my poor Spanish, and Adèle St. Pierre helped with the French. Any mistakes in either of these languages is entirely my fault.

I would also like to thank the citizens of Marblehead for so graciously discussing the history of their unique town. In particular David Barry, whose family purchased Black Joe’s Tavern from the Browns after the Civil War, and claimed to still occasional scent the ghost of rosepetals in the air; and Dana Denault, who owns the property hosting the Old Powderhouse— “It’s still remarkably dry in there, even when it rains!” Thanks also to Brooklyn’s Green-Wood Cemetery for endless material about shipwrecks and doomed love affairs. And many thanks indeed to the fine folks at Mystic Seaport; particularly Nathan Rumney, who gave me a thorough tour of the Charles W. Morgan and cheerfully discussed the critical hit potentials of pitch-poling; and Melville scholar Mary K. Bercaw Edwards, who unblinkingly answered my “peculiar questions,” and inexplicably trusted me throw an antique harpoon at a floating target!

Thanks to Sandy Peterson and Chaosium for creating the best RPG on the market, and thanks to the creators of Paranoia, the game that first showed me the unbridled joy of pitting player characters against each other. And this manuscript could not have been written without my constant musical companions: Rush, King Crimson, Robyn Hitchcock, Nurse With Wound, Tangerine Dream, Lustmord, Tom Waits, and The Tiger Lillies.

And of course: my endless gratitude to H.P. Lovecraft and his entire deranged universe, from frisky fishmen to giant albino penguins.

A final word about the text itself. White Leviathan is peppered with literary Easter eggs, tongue-in-cheek references to horror movies, allusions to prog rock, and Lovecraftian in-jokes, mostly residing in the names and personalities of its characters. The people I love and respect the most have been transformed into bullies, monsters, and cannibals. If I have offended anybody living, dead, or otherwise, I apologize. Feel free to register your complaints at the Kingsport Public Library.

White Leviathan > Introduction
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Author: A. Buell Ruch
Last Modified: 19 August 2023
Email: quail (at) shipwrecklibrary (dot) com
White Leviathan PDF: [TBD]

Even yet I do not know why the ocean holds such a fascination for me. But then, perhaps none of us can solve those things—they exist in defiance of all explanation. There are men, and wise men, who do not like the sea and its lapping surf on yellow shores; and they think us strange who love the mystery of the ancient and unending deep. Yet for me there is a haunting and inscrutable glamour in all the ocean’s moods. It is in the melancholy silver foam beneath the moon’s waxen corpse; it hovers over the silent and eternal waves that beat on naked shores; it is there when all is lifeless save for unknown shapes that glide through sombre depths. And when I behold the awesome billows surging in endless strength, there comes upon me an ecstasy akin to fear; so that I must abase myself before this mightiness, that I may not hate the clotted waters and their overwhelming beauty. Vast and lonely is the ocean, and even as all things came from it, so shall they return thereto. In the shrouded depths of time none shall reign upon the earth, nor shall any motion be, save in the eternal waters. And these shall beat on dark shores in thunderous foam, though none shall remain in that dying world to watch the cold light of the enfeebled moon playing on the swirling tides and coarse-grained sand. On the deep’s margin shall rest only a stagnant foam, gathering about the shells and bones of perished shapes that dwelt within the waters. Silent, flabby things will toss and roll along empty shores, their sluggish life extinct. Then all shall be dark, for at last even the white moon on the distant waves shall wink out. Nothing shall be left, neither above nor below the sombre waters. And until that last millennium, and beyond the perishing of all other things, the sea will thunder and toss throughout the dismal night.

—H.P. Lovecraft & R.H. Barlow, “The Night Ocean”