What to Do When You Meet Cthulhu

by Rachel Gray

  In “The Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family,” poor Arthur Jermyn descended from a long line of slightly crazy Jermyns—ranging from a tell-weird-tales-about-the-Congo-while-in-your-dressing-gown kind of weird, all the way up to a murder-your-entire-family-upon-getting-news-from-the-Congo sort of weird. So it probably didn’t come as much of a surprise when, one night, Arthur soaked himself in oil and set himself on fire.

  In addition to being weird, many of the male members of the family had an unnatural fascination with white apes. There was Wade Jermyn, who traveled to the Congo to find a mysterious and legendary gray city, rumored by the Onga tribe to be chock-full of white apes. He didn’t have much luck, but he did return from the Congo with a weird and violent bride who pretty much liked to hide away from visitors and the public, and eventually returned to the Congo.

  Then there was Alfred, who ran off to join the circus. He selected an especially pale gorilla to train and perform with in the show. And all went well, until he decided one day for no reason to bite the gorilla in the neck.

  So it seemed only natural that Arthur, Alfred’s son, and last of the Jermyn line, would set off to the Congo to pursue Onga legends of the lost city (think of Michael Crichton’s novel and film Congo). Unfortunately, he learned the white apes had been wiped from existence by the warlike N’bangu tribe. The tribe also made off with a stuffed white goddess, believed to be a great princess, which had been worshiped by the pale apes.

  Luckily, Arthur met a Belgian trader who promised to procure the stuffed goddess. Arthur returned home, eagerly awaiting the box containing the white ape-princess. But after opening the box, he screamed, ran from the house, and turned himself into a human torch.

  Folks who later examined the box found a white ape inside (no surprise there). But the Jermyn family resemblance was undeniable, as was the Jermyn coat of arms she wore about her neck.

  IT RUNS EVEN MORE IN THE FAMILY

  I know what you’re thinking . . . more white apes? Yes, more white apes. While the whole ape/human thing doesn’t seem to be very popular with many fans of the Cthulhu Mythos, there is no denying it was popular with Lovecraft. This in part might be due to the common, pop cultural misunderstanding in Lovecraft’s day that it was possible for humans to devolve into a far more primitive state (consider the “wild children” found in the 1800s). Of course, it all comes from hereditary troubles, and the greatest fear being no one truly knows what happens in their family history.

  This doesn’t mean we should ignore the “atavistic” tales of Lovecraft. Maybe the “ape” isn’t important, but the devolving is—remember the Marsh family in “The Shadow over Innsmouth?” Frog/fish people, or apes, it’s the same premise. Anyway, if you take anything away from these white ape tales, it should be: Don’t worry so much about being a great white ape; just accept the fact that if you don’t run into one, or are related to one, you’ll eventually turn into one.

  In “The Lurking Fear,” one man took it upon himself to investigate tales of trouble on Tempest Mountain in the Catskills. Tempest Mountain, named for the strange storms constantly swirling about its peaks, was also home to the spooky and long-abandoned Martense mansion. The peculiar Martenses had always been disliked in the area, and were well known by a common trait shared by many family members—one brown eye, and the other blue.

  It was in the early colonial days when the Martenses settled on Tempest Mountain. And with the centuries, their wealth and family’s reputation faded. Eventually, there was nothing but a ruin left of the once majestic mansion—and no Martenses to be found.

  When a sudden thunderstorm settled over the area (it was Tempest Mountain, after all), fear swelled to a frenzy when a lightning bolt struck near a squatters’ camp, causing the homemade structures to collapse, and resulting in the death of all seventy-five inhabitants. All in all, it wasn’t too bad as the dead people were nothing more than poor, homeless squatters—low on the gene pool in Lovecraft’s day. Actually, it wasn’t the death of the squatters that inspired terror, it was how they died. When the location was visited, all that remained were clawed and chewed corpses, and parts of corpses (seems that squatters were low on the food-chain as well). So one man, a self-described “connoisseur in horrors,” decided to investigate further. The investigator enlisted the help of two companions, George Bennett and William Tobey. All three ventured up Tempest Mountain. But the three men were unexpectedly caught in a storm (yes, on Tempest Mountain). In need of refuge from the rain and lightning, they entered the remains of the Martense house. Within an hour of entering, all men grew curiously drowsy.

  After a quick nap the investigator awoke, discovering his companions missing. This was followed by a brief lightning-flash, which revealed the terrifying form of an ape-like creature. And as quickly as the lightning had strobed, the creature vanished. Of course, Bennett and Tobey were never found again.

  Even with his newfound and recently lost friends missing, the investigator was undeterred. He returned to the nearby town and hooked up with a reporter named Arthur Munroe. They bonded immediately, quickly becoming pals. And together, they roamed the countryside, hunting for information about Martenses. But, to their surprise, another violent storm struck, and the pair was forced to take refuge in a cabin. As lightning crashed nearby, Munroe peered out the window to assess the damage. Big mistake. Almost as quickly as the investigator had befriended Munroe, he was dead. When the investigator checked on Munroe, who stood, motionless, at the window, he found the reporter with his face chewed to shreds.

  But if anything, Cthulhu Mythos investigators (even when they don’t realize they are such) are a strongheaded group. Another death didn’t discourage the investigator. Instead, he continued exploring—after the storm—and eventually unearthed the grave of Jan Martense. Luckily, before Munroe died, he’d uncovered a number of Martense family records. It seems the Martense family had crushed Jan’s head in with a skull of some sort. Now things were clear to the investigator. The simplest explanation was that Jan Martense had become a vengeance-seeking ghost, and was able to ride lightning bolts down to Earth in order to attack his unfortunate victims. All right, maybe not the simplest, but certainly fantastic in nature and worthy of further investigation.

  MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:

  STAY AWAKE

  As it is apparent from this tale written in the 1920s, staying awake isn’t a modern problem. And for investigators of the Cthulhu Mythos, it is an extremely important matter. Remember to remain alert at all times. When venturing into caverns, forests, ruins, or escaping from the ancient city of the Old Ones, it is important to be wide awake and full of energy. Sleep is often a co-conspirator in the Mythos. It settles upon a person at the most inopportune moment. This means one should always keep a steady supply of caffeinated drinks and energy shots on-hand. It’s also not a bad idea to carry a taser. (Sure, they hurt, but you’re guaranteed to stay awake after you zap yourself with a taser. Also handy on a small number of Mythos creatures).

  LIFE IS SELDOM SIMPLE

  Doggedly, the investigator tore into the earth, looking for some sort of clue, any clue that might support his seemingly simple hypothesis. But all he received for his efforts was falling into an underground passage. Frightened, he scrambled to the surface and safety. But as he did, he saw a terrible claw, and two hateful eyes, gazing at him from the blackness below.

  After a short reprieve, and some time to collect himself, the investigator returned to Jan Martense’s grave site. What he expected to find wasn’t there. The odd tunnel had collapsed due to more storms. Even so, he knew there had to be another entrance, as the underground passage seemed quite lengthy. He strolled the grounds of the Martense mansion, intrigued by the vast number of mounds littered across the land. Then, like an unexpected lightning bolt from a storm on Tempest Mountain, it struck him. Each of these mounds were links in a vast honeycomb of tunnels beneath the surface. In fact, they were a bit like oversized mole mounds. Excitedly, and seemingly obl
ivious of the dangers awaiting him, he staked out one of the mound entrances. He didn’t have to wait long before a horde of ape-like creatures streamed from the mound entrance. They were terrible, white apes with scissor-sharp claws. Some even had one brown eye and one blue eye—the Martense “look.” Being short on friends, the investigator promptly fled. But he wasn’t going to be outdone. As soon as possible, he returned with several local men. He also brought plenty of explosives. Not wanting to wait until the ape-like creatures sprung from the mounds, the investigator and the locals planted the explosives and destroyed the network of mounds and tunnels. These also (hopefully) killed what was clearly the surviving descendants of a devolved Martense family.

  MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:

  KNOW WHEN TO CUT BAIT

  Determination is a quality admired by many—particularly hungry monsters. Sometimes when investigating the Cthulhu Mythos, diligence rewards. Other times it doesn’t. Knowing when to run and when to press onward can be difficult. Honestly, it comes down to a person’s desire to live. Usually, the greater the desire, the sooner one flees. But risk takers know peril sometimes pays. Sadly, the investigator in “The Lurking Fear” is a poor example, as in the end he only had the satisfaction of destroying a group of “degenerate” humans. Although in his day, this was reward enough. And actually, there are few other examples of great reward in the Cthulhu Mythos, unless you count learning secrets and going insane, or gathering vast knowledge and being lost in time as rewards.

  Overall, it is probably better to flee than to push onward. However, for those who are headfast and determined, there is some sort of reward—fleeting as it may be.

  What to

  Do When

  You Meet

  Cthulhu

  This was that cult, and the prisoners said it had always existed and always would exist, hidden in distant wastes and dark places all over the world until the time when the great priest Cthulhu, from his dark house in the mighty city of R’lyeh under the waters, should rise and bring the earth again beneath his sway. Some day he would call, when the stars were ready, and the secret cult would always be waiting to liberate him.

  —H.P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”

  At long last we’ve arrived—the denouement of the book, and perhaps of the planet. But we can’t rush into things. All of the previous chapters have led to this one. So if you’ve skipped through them, you’re not likely to survive long enough to meet Cthulhu. This is a good opportunity to jump back and at least skim those previous chapters.

  And if you’ve been diligent and scoured all of the preceding text, then you know there are many threats in the Cthulhu Mythos. Unfortunately, most, if not all of them, are likely to appear before the Great Cthulhu awakens. Stop to consider that Cthulhu is a creature beyond human comprehension (not unlike most other Mythos critters). His, or her, dreams are powerful enough to influence and invoke insanity in humans. Imagine his waking thoughts. Arguably, he doesn’t see the world as humans do. In fact, he probably doesn’t even see reality as humans do. Most likely, he views multiple realities, and all of time, simultaneously. Imagine the headache Cthulhu will wake up with—no wonder everything will get destroyed.

  But we can’t actually blame Cthulhu. Rather, humans, and every other creature on the earth, are mere specks. This Great Old One is interested in the really big picture. So it is unlikely he’ll even give humanity a second thought—or a first. Quite honestly, he might not even notice us at all. Even so, our fate is sealed. All is lost, and doom awaits us.

  If this sounds nihilistic or apocalyptic that’s because it is. Really, the goal isn’t to outwit or thwart Cthulhu, the best plan is to survive until he awakens, and then maybe slip away unnoticed and undamaged. Or, at the very least, embrace the inevitable fate that awaits humanity. Although, there is no need to put the cart before the horse at this moment. Things will be much clearer (maybe) once we examine the H.P. Lovecraft story that started the entire “Cthulhu” business.

  Without a doubt, one of Lovecraft’s most popular tales is “The Call of Cthulhu.” Without this story, most likely you wouldn’t even be reading this book. And even more likely, this book wouldn’t have been written. And an entire genre of literature and films would be tentacle-less. As a culture, we owe much to Lovecraft and this wonderful tale.

  CTHULHU, R’LYE—WHO THE WHAT, NOW?

  In “The Call of Cthulhu,” a set of papers belonging to the late George Gammell Angell, a professor of Semitic Languages at Brown University, set things into motion. The papers were found by his great-nephew, Francis Wayland Thurston, along with a strange bas-relief, depicting a bulbous-headed, tentacled creature with wings.

  In addition, there were references to a strange “Cthulhu Cult” (yes, he has one). In the notes, it is revealed that a young, excitable fellow named Henry Anthony Wilcox called upon Professor Angell after creating the peculiarly tentacled, bas-relief sculpture. It seems Wilcox suffered strange dreams prior to making the hideous-looking bit of art. In these dreams, he found himself inside a Cyclopean city that dripped with green ooze, and was walled by black onyx stonework. And when he was there, from deep below the surface, a great voice rumbled the mysterious words “Cthulhu” and “R’lyeh.”

  Oddly, the enigmatic expressions sounded familiar to Professor Angell. In an attempt to learn more, he requested regular dream-reports from Wilcox. Happy to oblige, Wilcox described the great walls of the vast city. Inscribed upon the walls were hieroglyphs. And when he said “tall walls,” he meant they were often several miles high. All of this gave professor Angell plenty to consider—at least until Wilcox stopped dreaming of the mysterious city. As it turns out, Wilcox’s weird dreams started not long after a great earthquake shook the ground in late February/early March. And newspapers reported accounts of people around the globe who’d had similar experiences. Often, these dreams inspired artists to create amazing works. Others caused insanity, or death.

  And then, about a month later, all of the weird dreams abruptly stopped after a huge storm.

  INSPECTOR LEGRASSE, ON THE CASE

  Angell’s interest in the bas-relief stemmed from seeing a similar depiction, and hearing the name Cthulhu before (a name not easy to forget, let alone spell). Years prior, he’d attended a meeting of the American Archeological Society. At the time, an Inspector John Raymond Legrasse brought forth a statuette and asked the assembled archeologists to identify it. The statuette had been discovered in New Orleans during a raid.

  Prior to the raid, several squatters had gone missing from the area (not surprising). When Legrasse and his team investigated, they discovered a weird cult, worshiping the bas-relief idol. Apparently, the creepy cultists revered Great Old Ones who’d come from beyond the stars. The Great Old Ones were forced to take refuge underground, and underwater, due to great cosmic forces, thereby preventing their reign upon the Earth—for a limited time. But the cult believed when the stars were ready, Cthulhu, priest of the Great Old Ones, would rise again from his underwater city of R’lyeh. And when he did rise, his cult would be standing by—whether it be to sacrifice humans in his honor, or to offer themselves as sacrifices.

  IÄ, IÄ IS RIGHT!

  As you’ve likely noticed, there’s a great deal of chanting that appears in the Mythos, often in the form of indecipherable names, and words with far too many consonants than are typically found in English words. Sometimes these chants are preceded by the words, Iä, Iä! (Generally pronounced as: Eee-yuh, Eee-yuh). Some sources believe it translates to “Yes, yes,” or “Hey, hey,” but is also believed to mean: “I hunger, I hunger!”

  Sometimes “Iä, Iä” is strung together with other words and phrases. Given the increased attention to Cthulhu in popular culture today, it is possible to find a number of phrases—many quite clever, but unrepeatable, in this book. However, perhaps the most popular is “Iä, Iä Cthulhu Fhtagn.” To see just how popular it is, if you’re reading this book in a public place, try calling out the phrase. Most likely
you’ll get a response. And if you’re at a game, film, comic, or other similar convention, give the phrase a shout. You’ll certainly be the star of the show.

  YOU HAVE GUMBALLS IN YOUR MOUTH

  Most of the archeologists at the conference didn’t recognize the bas-relief. But Professor William Channing Webb, from Princeton, vaguely recalled a creepy cult similar to the one described by Legrasse. The cult worshiped a similar statue. And, as in the Louisiana gathering, the members had chanted the strange phrase: Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn (you’re on your own here).

  OLD ONES, GREAT OLD ONES, ELDER GODS, OUTER GODS, OR OTHER GODS?

  Don’t know whether the creature in front of you is a Great Old One or an Elder God? No matter. The following list should clear things up.

  OLD ONES, AKA GREAT OLD ONES

  These terms refer interchangeably to the extra-terrestrial beings that arrived on Earth from beyond the stars, long ago. The Great Old Ones live underground, or are imprisoned underwater. Some of them eagerly wait for the stars to be right again so they can return to the surface of Earth and wreak havoc.

  GREAT ONES

  These are weak gods of Earth that cavort about the Dreamlands (and, as you may recall, wandered off to live in Randolph Carter’s mystical city, until Nyarlathotep put a stop to it).

  OTHER GODS, AKA OUTER GODS