Worlds Beyond Number

A celebration devolves into a disaster. Terrible things descend from above, threatening to tear our heroes apart. Safety lies south with the promise of escape. Let's hope we can make it in time. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of violence and alcohol consumption.

Everything comes crashing down. Across the bay, something unthinkable emerges from the fog. What it is, what it means, none of that matters now. There are only these next few seconds. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of violence and gore.

Fireworks sing above the bay and tensions rise with the tide. New arrivals at the harbor throw party plans into chaos. Love and heartbreak duke it out as our heroes face the Sundown. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of alcohol consumption and violence.

Tonight, the great city of Port Akabor celebrates the Summer Sundown! Musicians tune up at the Bayview Bandshell while college students prepare to party. Gather your loved ones, grab a drink, and turn up the radio. This will be a night to remember! Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of alcohol consumption, suicidal ideation, and vomit.

Aabria, Brennan, Erika, and Lou gather to answer your questions about Arc 1 of Solari. For more chats like this, join us on our Patreon!

A moment of rest after a trial of terror. Reach out! A connection may ensure our safety. Who will take us under their wing? And what do we give up in return? Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of alcohol consumption, drug use, and sexual content.

Death. Birth. A choice. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of alcohol consumption, drug use, sexual content, violence, and gore.

Look to the future. Learn from the past. Question everything. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of alcohol consumption.

This episode is a Prelude—a transmission from the past. Before Solari: Arc I, there were other lives, other worlds, and countless choices that shaped who our PCs would become. Over the next few episodes, we'll uncover the stories that set them on a path toward one another. Witness a time before the beginning. Before Pulls and Culls, before Ghenopaar, before the return of Orm. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of alcohol consumption, sexual content, and insects.

Welcome to beautiful Avana, tropical jewel of the Kamuri! We are proud to cater to the Five Families as the premier vacation destination. Relax poolside at one of our luxury resorts and take in the hand-crafted biological decor. Forget your worries and soak in the sun: Experience paradise today!

They watch, they wait, they wager. They hear you've made some friends. They see you through their scope. They know you play pretend. Keep your head down. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of violence.

Heads up! Worlds Beyond Number has officially partnered with Skybound to launch our very first graphic novel! THE WIZARD, THE WITCH, AND THE WILD ONE BOOK ONE is coming to Kickstarter on June 16th. In addition to that, the massive 157 track OST for WWWO is out NOW, so there's plenty of Umora available for you while you wait.

A gift delivered at terminal velocity. Sender unknown, but the intent is clear. A deadly dance unfolds before us. One step, two step, boom! Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of violence and drug use.

A cryptic warning scrawled in red. The Captain is no longer taking orders. Stranded en route, we are bound by contract: Do we thank or fear our liberator? Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of blood, violence, and alcohol consumption.

Hands up and walk casual. A blood artist’s kingdom crumbles around her. Wipe away your tears and force a wide smile. After all, the show must go on. Content Warning: This episode contains depictions of blood and violence.

Uninvited guests invade the Vice Rooms. The young scion of Iverex assembles his entourage. Questions hang in the air like bullets, flung towards the inevitable. Something isn’t adding up. This Pull was supposed to be simple…

The era of seclusion is over. The 40 Suns reconnect and reunite and find themselves valuable. As borders are drawn across occupied space, the great powers of the galaxy begin their sweep of its dusty corners searching for any golden scraps that remain. Hungry eyes turn towards a tiny asteroid named Ghenopaar, a place where everything is permitted and nothing is forbidden. Strange shapes move through the shadows. The players begin the next phase of their game. History is being rewritten.

In the dark of orbit, the crew of the Icaron makes its last stand. A desperate plan unfolds across steel corridors and open vacuum as the ship is pushed beyond its limits and an armada bears down. This is the final assault.

The crew crashes back into Nadir Hab and straight into a nightmare: Martians on the bridge, an overwhelming presence lurking beyond the glass, and Earth dead ahead by morning. As trust fractures and long-buried secrets surface, our heroes are driven toward a choice that may cost them everything.

The Icaron locks down as Martian strike craft take position, turning the ship into hostile ground. With exits gone and command in question, three figures slip into its hidden spaces, moving toward a communications deck that may be the last place still speaking to the outside world. Signals are active, systems are rerouting, and something aboard the Icaron is making its move.

The clink of champagne glasses and gala formalwear gives way to gunfire and chaos aboard the Icaron. With authority fractured and information scarce - who ends up on the right side of this conflict, who is written off as collateral, and what those decisions cost will shape everything to come.

This is the maiden voyage of the Icaron - Earth’s first S-Class Battle Station. This demonstration flight has been certified as routine by all relevant oversight bodies. Systems have been tested, personnel vetted, and contingencies reviewed. Passengers are reminded that the Icaron represents the highest standard of planetary defense engineering. Please remain seated.

In the frozen hills of Rhuv, the Sigrunsgjalfi Children’s Home sits silent beneath a sky of unfamiliar stars. No lights glow in the windows and no signs of celebration mark the coming of Alf Gappen’s Day. Yet in the stillness, a single sleeping child hums a quiet tune that carries impossibly far across the snow. Three spirits hear it and cross the tundra to a place stripped of joy, determined to bring warmth and wonder.

Our fiasco continues—Italian style! Can the Holy Trinity escape Heaven in time for the wedding? How are they possibly paying for all those chicken taters? And will a tiny pistachio man derail everything? One thing’s for sure: sometimes all you need for nuptial dreams to come true are your lungs, your heart, and a mostly-intact spinal cord.

A simple chicken-tater-funding contract goes horribly wrong when our heroes paraglide straight into hell. Dodging revenge plots, subterranean fish stomachs, and a devil with very specific terms, they just might make it to the altar… if they survive. This is Fiasco! — our first video podcast and a GM-less free-for-all. Join us as we plan a wedding, face sworn enemies, and fully embrace chaos.

The forgotten town of Fortune's Fields lies in the shadow of a mesa. Desert winds stir across the Free Roads, carrying the low, mournful calls of jackals. The streets lie quiet, sun-bleached and cracked, littered with the remnants of shops and abandoned homes. Across the train tracks, half-buried in sand and shadow, a mine shaft waits, its mouth dark and inviting. Fortune is found only by those desperate enough to follow it into the unknown.

And now, for our final course, the denouement. But how will it end? In confession? In violence? In the cold precision of a sickly sweet poison pill, or the white hot bite of black widow? Perhaps. The only things guaranteed in this, our final curtain call, are the same things that are always guaranteed to grow from the soil of spilled blood: lawyers, guns, and money.

Our interlocutors do as the Romans do and pipe up, sweating through their first interrogation, but Cass finds himself in the cruelest court of all when his paper trail leads the way to new suspicions and old desperations. Not even a nice liberal government can save you from some things, like the smoking, still-warm barrel of a gun.

As blood pools upon the thick pile of the Boddie Estate's imported rug collection, our players, and the game, are afoot. Bodies on the move in voluminous pants and long, dark secret hallways. Revelations and aspersions fill the air of the mansion like fingers between the keys of a grand piano, like a sky-darkening murmuration of starlings, as our heroes begin to uncover the culprit behind this murder most...fowl.

To whom it may concern, you have been cordially invited to the Boddie Estate, alongside many established as well as up-and-coming luminaries, gadabouts, learned scholars, loyal compatriots, mysterious servants, long-time friends with complicated backstories, blackmail artists with hearts of gold, liars from your past, traitors from your present, not-mysterious-at-all servants, and of course, one very, very wealthy corpse. Spoiler alert.

The cast assembles to look back at the end AND the whole of Book One. Ends and wholes, that's what it's all about, baby! Join us on our Patreon for more like this! Coming Soon: Music Chat! A whole episode about the "what ifs" of Book One! And so, so much more. See you there!

Behold the Future of Worlds Beyond Number! Here's a rundown of all the great stuff coming your way, taken from the most recent Fireside Chat where the gang goes deep on dissecting that WILD finale. Listen through to the end for an announcement about our upcoming album drop! What!?

We gotta go.

Remember this when you wake up: The greedy, hungry awful things. Some small part of you will miss them. The lost letters, the old home movies, the people you put on the same path as you, the dumb and silent stars of the southern sky. One last show, and then I can't be here. Don't ever let me forget this: who to kiss, and who to kill.

To make the new world, to free tomorrow from the clutches of not done, we must bury the old world, shove ourselves inside the bone white sand, and there meet ourselves and everyone we have known. A wizard in her tower, oh let down your hair. A wild one, his one foot out the door of the prison cell. And a witch astride the world, who simply cannot leave any door closed, any stone not flipped like a table in the temple. We are all the pallbearers of what was. Roll up your sleeves. It's time to clean up.

GET TEASED, LISTENER! With this, a teaser of our first Horner Corner and our first guest*, Grant O'Brien. Join this infamous Dropout sex-haver as he is RAILED by questions from our hosts Aabria and Erika. Feelin teased? Then come and get the, ahem, hole thing on our Patreon!

This is our endeavor. To blade! To tongue! To plow! To grind our name into the bones of tomorrow, until the horizon is lucid smooth as liquid mirror, sharp as cut glass, clear as cool water rising, Irrigating in our throats the dry river bed of ambition. A witch in the gut of the tower. A wild one embraced by blood. A wizard in the court of the sword. All days divided into the days before and the days after, like the two sides of a shut window of black glass.

Everything that rises must converge. In the gloaming, where the tide of one world washes and runs across the sands of another, we pass through the center of things like a gate, like a river, like the sea of the sky, champions on parade at the crossroads, a place we know, a place we find familiar, before the night, as it ever does, arrives.

Shining, shimmering, splendid. Endless open doors, in a countryside of vapor. Everyone's invited. Do we have enough food? This is what you wanted. You leapt out the window, you walked through the door, you sent up the flare. But that's the past, and we're not headed there...are we?

You are weightless and powerful. Whatever you were on the way to being, this can be done too. This world is a dream, yes. But whose? It's time to go home.

In the sky, war. On the ground, blood. There goes the neighborhood.

Lou Wilson hosts this special sample of his latest game show masterpiece: CLASS ACTION!

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, and the dry stone no sound of water. When the dead tree bears the fruit of empire, it will all be this. You can't shake it. You can't shake me. Or the burning sky, or the blood, or the ink, or the ash. But there is a part of us that lives forever, and chances taken are rewarded. Stretch your legs, use the space, and I will show you your shadow at evening rising to meet you. I will show you fear in a handful of dust and freedom in the shadow of man. Deep breaths.

Across the night, with the dawn, this version of her, our gilled mage. Suvirin Kedberiket, amphibious and unalone. In the ice cave abattoir, our survivors, the otter and the otherworldly. The fresh hells of a secret past. And then, the trail, far beyond the broad road, taking them to whatever gifts the past has left. The task at hand. A good feeling. Dark river water. Bodies at the bottom murk, and above us: nothing. Exactly where we want to be.

The keen mind is king, and you are not in your tower. You are here with us, underground, haunting the foundations of the world, a shadow, here to offer and support the force. In front of you is a cellar door and a brush of blood. Choose quick: Wear the muzzle, or grow some teeth. By a turning of the coin, you are awake and remember you are dreaming still.

The road is a door, and it beckons wide and open. Turns out, you can, in fact, get there from here. If there is a town, a bag, the throat of the ravening beast, the back room of a humble butcher's shop, your end at the bottom of the mighty Lydwyn. Towns are like Empires, they are made of people and promises. Roads are like graves, they are made of dirt and the space you fill. And along the road, like pallbearers: wild, wild things.

War makes strange bedfellows. Glasses clink like funeral bells. We become the fox, at last, or at the very least: We are not the sheep. Every time we step out of that door, all we have are the words of soldiers. And so many doors are open to us. You don't want this, but at last, and at the very least: in the morning, we ride. This could change everything.

The spirit touches all things, but boots find sure footing on moss and stone. At long last, the long arm of empire legs it. The machine is repurposed. Love your mommy and listen to the mirror for once. The least you can do is ask. Finally, after such a long time in the wilderness, peace, and like a knife in the stomach, quiet. All hail the returning heroes. We're going home.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. And within the rills and jagged boughs, a beckoning abyss drinks in the light. If you are not careful, if you do not listen, if you speak or move without thought, it will gobble you up, like a sweet tomato, or a useful child, or a secret name, or an empty boat, its lines knocking and bobbing unseen down a river, into night.

The Battle of Abassin is won, but the escape, and the peace are anyone's game. Into the woods, we go, where the tall trees blind us and we cannot see the forest. The mask slips. We make monsters of men, and speak with animals. The chain of command is thus: hunger, water, music. Each family of sad adventurers is sad in its own way.