So while I enjoy the back story for explaining how all of the investigators gathered in Arkham this go around, I would like a little more backstory as to why 12 gates have to be closed this time- sort of a back story to the specific scenerio.

Since they gates can be closed but not sealed I imagine them as being more numberous but less stable. Perhapes whoever performed the ritual to call to Shub got interrupted by a police raid, leaving more numerous but less well "anchored" gates forming along Arkham's laylines?

Any one have a 1 or 2 paragraph story to explain this? I have my own that I am editing right now that I want to post later. I think it alway adds a little something to explain why the scenerio is set up the way it is.

I think that is a great idea, and it sounds fun. I think the trick is to write the back story in such a way that it does not contradict the unknown that has yet to come. (Sounds like a great name for an Old One...)

I kind of thought of this scenario as something was pushing on the walls of the world so hard, that it was impossible to seal anything. All you can do is run around fire fighting, hoping that somehow things get better. I kind of saw it as trying to outlast the unknown enemy, rather than defeating them.

Something like:

The air seems oddly heavy, charged with a strange chaotic energy. It is almost as if space is somehow thinner. Sounds echos coldly off unseen walls. Candle flames flicker and gutter as if touched by their own private gentle wind, almost as if pushed softly by a host of chanting voices. You feel a presence all around you, surging, fighting to somehow enter this world.

Everything you do seems to add to the chaos: Even the small pitiful truths you have uncovered cannot bind the chaos around you. No gates may be sealed, and your only hope is to keep closing them... to keep plugging the tiny holes in the dam between the worlds, while you pray that whatever is pushing on the other side tires or loses interest.

If you close enough gates (4+ the number of players), you feel a great pressure has been lifted from you mind. It is as if something's attention has been drawn elsewhere, and you are suddenly no longer worthy of notice. Rest awaits you, knowing that you held back the darkness for a while... but sleep does not come easily, as you still remember the terrible pressure bearing down on you.

***

Maybe too generic... but I like the idea that everything in the league might be one big story, and nothing makes sense yet. The investigators don't know enough to stand and fight yet, and all they can do is react as quickly as possible.

That being said, I'd love to see what you wrote and anyone elses stories...

That is an interesting perspective that I did not think about. Again, I viewed the 12 gates (I run an 8-person league) as being less of a strong surge in eldritch energy and more of a bubbling of it—more numerous, yet weak. Hence why the characters have to close, but not seal so many gates. My first thought was that the gates are the result of a failed ritual:

Its nights like these that make me hate this job and this town. I thought when I joined the police it would be different. I thought I would be dealing with general scum and the lawless. However the last few months have really taken a toll. I know things now, things I shouldn't or at least shouldn't believe...

Godforsaken Arkham.

We had been monitoring a sort of “club” for some time on the suspicion they were connected to a few unexplained kidnappings in the area. Ransom money was the obvious motive. Through various means, not all of which I am proud of, we had located the meeting place deep in woodlands surrounding Arkham. We waited there, observing some blasphemous rites, hopeing to bust everyone on something more than just indecency, committing lude acts in public and starting a fire without a permit. We got our chance after we watch in horror as a young boy was sliced open on top of a crude stone alter.

Far from being afraid, the “congregants” were whipped into a fury and a violent skirmish erupted as we charged into this sick ritual. I thank God that my resolve held, particuarly after I watched the man to the right of me be ripped apart by three crazed bastards. When it was all over leaving many dead including two more of our own, a deputy told me he thought we had stopped things just in time. The reason were several of the missing children were found alive locked in a crude cage not far from the alter. “Great” I said, “That just means the ones who escaped will try this again.” I know they will, I can already feel something going wrong.

**** town—the air grew hot as we stood there. I watched large storm clouds roll in and settle all around us. They did enough to start something. And this night was not going to slip away easily.

Or at least that is how I imagined it. Perhaps a little uneven and ham-handed, but it was fun to write.

Fun to read too! That's a good intro. It's good to see that there are some competent deputy's in Arkham. I dread wandering into the police station because of that crazy deputy who keeps accidentally shooting people in the foot.

Yeah, funny story about that. I once could not get past the bridge in Dunwich because I kept being sent back to Arkham by the inepted police force. This happened three or four times. It was really amazing.