Writing a Lovecraftian story - have a couple questions

So I'm writing a Lovecraftian story where Cthulhu is sacking the world. Magic is going crazy all over the world, with various portals opening everywhere and one of my heroines gets transported to R'yleh. I was wondering is there a certain way R'yleh is supposed to be? I know little about the Lovecraft lore, but is there any depictions of R'yleh in actual Cthulhu stories? My story is a comedy and I wanted to have R'yleh as a horrible nightmare version of Oz. I'd explain the handful of other people as being others that got sucked through other portals (at most five adults and a bus of kids). The rest of the inhabitants I was going to have as Cthulhi and Deep Ones. Does this violate any lore? I realize it's a parody so I have a lot of Artistic Liscense, but I'd rather not just piss all over the lore.

Are there any other native inhabitants to R'yleh than Cthulhu/Cthulhi and Deep Ones? Any other specific monsters that a Lovecraftian apocalypse can't be without?

If I remember right in Call of Cthulhu in his grand arrival a small bit of it rose up. It was described as covered in slime from an eternity under sea, Cluttered with long abandoned monuments far too large to be from this earth all made out of a soapy greenish blackish colored stone with gold or iridescent flecks unlike anything known to man. Naturally everything was non Euclidean and twisted in impossible shapes to the point where the explorers didn't know whether they were climbing or crawling around on the surface. Other than that there wasn't much of a description. It is Lovecraft after all. Don't worry. You shouldn't have too much trouble with the lore since Lovecraft himself didn't really care for it and just tried to write a good story. People made up rules afterwords.

edited 27th Feb '15 10:36:02 PM by Yewleaf

Aye, Cthulhu Mythos is such a melting pot at this point that it probably doesn't require super extensive research. Lovecraft himself didn't seem super keen about the details either from what I've read.

It's really impossible to describe any of the elements of Lovecraft's stories out of context and be able to conjure up the same feelings and imagery that he could through his prose. R'lyeh is described in Call of Cthulhu and mentioned in several other stories, including At The Mountains Of Madness. You can read about Lovecraft lore all you want, but you'll have to read his work to really experience it.

Resurrecting this particular thread, since the title best fits my own subject matter. What I want to ask is - is a Lovecraftian story defined by its setting - that is, ancient aliens worshiped as gods, weird cults and strange tomes of eldritch lore - or does it invariably have to feature certain themes, like the maddening effect these things have on the protagonists, the pronounced fear and loathing of the strange and unknown, and the overall notion of humanity being clueless and helpless against it?

From what I've seen, the actual most famous author with stories within the Cthulhu mythos is not Lovecraft himself, but Robert Howard. His characters, from Conan the Barbarian to Solomon Kane and John Kirowan, all seem well acquainted with the mystical aspects of the world, yet are far from powerless against them. Meanwhile, tangentially related characters like Pelias the sorcerer and N'Longa the shaman, appear to have mastered certain dark arts, without being worse for wear, let alone driven insane by it.

So I wonder, do these stories and characters, for lack of a better word, count? Can they be considered valid interpretations of the mythos? Coupled with Lovecraft's rabid racism as opposed to Howard's frequent subversion of stereotypes, it can be imagined more like the same world, or even the same events, can seem quite different through the eyes of different people. So, to go by the literary agent hypothesis, how much of a mythos story should be considered inherent in the setting, and how much can be chalked up to observer bias, so to speak?

The key point that distinguished Lovecraft stories from other horror stories is the theme of humanity ultimately being insignificant in the grand scheme of things. That there are beings so far above humanity they are incomprehensible to us, and to them we are but particles of sand to dust away. That the unknown is terrifying because to know is to Go Mad from the Revelation.

That said, those stories with aliens worshipped as gods, weird cults and tomes of eldritch lore... I would not consider these truly lovecraftian, but they do incorporate a lot of similar themes, though with the usual subversion of people not being helpless. I would still consider them valid, more optimistic interpretations of the mythos.

Themes and ideas, definitely. While Robert E. Howard was a key part of the Lovecraft circle, for instance, his work will always be less relevant to the continuum than stories like Thomas Ligotti's "The Sect of the Idiot" or Ramsey Campbell's "The Voice of the Beach", which certainly embrace very particular tropes of Yog-Sothothery but avoid anything resembling detailed explanations and mostly eschew nudge-nudge-wink-wink references, maugre the brief Necronomicon snippet at the beginning of the former.

I see. Still, I wonder if much of the doom and gloom attitude isn't a result of Flanderization, particularly with Call of Cthulhu's sanity mechanic being overused in lieu of more reasonable explanations. To a 1930's reader, the most unnerving elements may have concerned nothing more dramatic than the already pronounced paranoia surrounding foreigners and paganism, whereas modern fans often invoke non-Euclidean geometries and inherent sensory trauma so as to explain the same effects. On its own, the idea that humanity is a speck of dust in the wind is well accepted nowadays.

Consequently, if classic Lovecraft is essentially the mythos seen through the eyes of a paranoid racist, and the Howard tales are the same world experienced by battle-hardened warriors... I wonder what the viewpoint of a modern scientist would look like. Food for thought.

edited 27th Feb '17 2:51:12 PM by indiana404

Not exactly? Lovecraft was, even more than a precursor to the modern alt-right in his politics—and by the end of his life he was an out-and-out socialist anyway—a diehard atheist materialist and something of an early existentialist. To Lovecraft, modern science revealed more and more conclusively that human life was inherently nothing special or particularly meaningful in the greater context of the cosmos, and that the more we know, the more we will descend into nihilism and anomie because, well, what's the point? There isn't one. So we must make up meanings and symbols as bulwarks against the howling void of meaninglessness. The science fictional aspect was an extension of Lovecraft's preoccupations, yes, and his racial paranoia certainly fed into it all, but ultimately it was a vehicle for his personal fear and awe in the unknown. Lovecraft was frightened of the vastness and indifference of the cosmos, yet also enraptured by its depths and majesty. He also loathed pseudo-scientific claptrap for the most part, using Theosophical ideas and such mainly to convey how the inexplicable might manipulate the mundane.

That much I gather, but I wonder if it's not reading the mythos backwards. That is, it's one thing to start with the idea that hey, there are strange creatures and happenings out there, and they are far beyond the scope of current human understanding. It's something completely different to have humanity's insignificance be taken for granted by default, and the rest of the world is built to shill that notion... which ironically would mean that it is designed with humanity in mind, just not in a very nice way.

Consequently, there's a split in the usage of modern Lovecraftian elements. On one hand, there are adventure books like the Monster Hunter International series where eldritch horrors can still be gunned down and there are plenty of people who don't go mad from the revelation of their existence - reflecting a change in attitude from the 1930's. And on the other hand, there's the aforementioned sanity mechanic, which turns some of Lovecraft's themes into explicit setting aspects, even though Lovecraft himself was never so strict, and in fact encouraged contemporary reinterpretations of his Yog-Sothothery.

For that matter, while the limits of cosmological knowledge in the 1930's still allowed open consideration of such things as Solar System-dwelling aliens, or even entire hidden ecosystems on Earth, the same ideas expressed today would require a borderline conspiracy nut mentality, with the critique of humanity's ignorance having no leg to stand on. Meanwhile, modern scientific studies tend to leave the impression that the world is just awesome, rather than hopeless and horrifying.

So I wonder, considering the vast advances of scientific knowledge over the past century, would the idea of the ancient alien critters hiding in the New England countryside be truly met with fear and loathing, or, say, curiosity and astonishment? For my part, what first attracted me to the mythos was the idea that these creatures aren't evil, but work on logic vastly different from what humanity is accustomed to. Turning any encounter with them into a threat to one's wellbeing reduces them to generic bogeymen, while presenting them as incomprehensible for its own sake tends to sap any actual mystique they can otherwise hold.

It depends on the people who discover them. There'll probably be both people who fear them, and those that want to know more about them. Probably even people who'd want to capture them, or get a body at least.

Also, what will be the aliens doing in the countyside? If they've been killing people that's a good reason to be scared of them.

In a way, yes. Then again, angry bears and hungry wolves also kill people on occasion, but that's no reason to condemn the species entirely. If anything, the eldritch beings' inhuman logic might just mean they're more akin to animals instead. Or more likely, a little bit of both, as another persistent theme in Lovecraftian stories is that the abominations are somehow related to humans. One can see how this revelation can be mentally unacceptable to a guy who makes the rest of 1930's society look progressive, but given modern acceptance of evolutionary theory, it's only par for the course. And that's not even going into cultures where half-human hybrids are commonly accepted if not outright venerated in mythology. I tell ya, if Cthulhu ever wakes up, he's gonna be very popular in Japan.

Instead, I find a more consistent notion - one that still poses questions but doesn't go overboard, even by modern standards - expressed not in the words of Lovecraft himself, but rather Robert Howard:

"Man was not always master of the earth—and is he now?"

As far as themes go, that's the one I find most workable nowadays.

For me, the defining theme of Lovecraftian horror is that normalcy is an illusion, and reality is utterly hostile to human hopes, desires and even reason. The reality around us is a lie (perhaps one that is imposed upon us, perhaps one that we impose on ourselves) but the truth isn't truly knowable because our brains just aren't designed to see it. The little that is known, to those who can see it, is overwhelmingly frightening.

This theme can be incorporated into a story to varying degrees. Perhaps the most common horrors, those you are likely to encounter here on Earth, aren't the most powerful ones. Maybe the crawling chaos at the center of the universe has no particular reason to mess with us. Maybe with enough knowledge an elite group of humans can fight back and survive. But that fight won't be easy or even entirely sane.

This theme is most easily expressed via the setting- places and locations that appear completely normal at first glance conceal disturbing features and unsettling inhabitants, but only to someone who is unlucky enough to have it revealed to them (or foolish enough to seek the knowledge). It this experience of the "uncanny behind the normal" that makes a setting Lovecraftian.

I dunno, put that way, and it sounds more like a version of the Platonic Cave with alien squid on the outside. It's a versatile theme, but it's also a bit too generic, and always reliant on god-of-the-gaps logic, or even the outright conspiracy nut mentality that the less evidence there is, the bigger the secret.

Instead, I was thinking more about Lovecraft being an atheist in a predominantly Christian society. This would not only alienate him from his peers, but the idea of gods that do exist, but are uncaring and all but insane by human standards, would be just as unsettling to him as to the general populace. Few things are scarier than the notion that God exists... and it ain't yours. Chew on that, Pascal.

Ironically, the closest idea nowadays is jut plain old Christian rapture, objectively verifying that yeah, some people do have the world better figured out than others, sucks to be you for not believing them.

It also explains why Howardian characters aren't bothered by such revelations - Conan is a pagan maltheist or close equivalent thereof, while Solomon Kane equates eldritch horrors to demons and carves them up accordingly. Dude uses an Artifact of Doom as a walking stick.

My problem is that you're fixating on the "godlike aliens" thing when Lovecraft's own work only really focused on the space-being thing outright in the latter half of his career. What unites Lovecraft's work isn't the blending of science fiction and supernatural horror, but the terror and awe of the unknown and unknowable. You're aware of Lovecraft, but it seems to me like you're not actually very well acquainted with his work.

If you want a deeper understanding of where Lovecraft was coming from, read Ferretbrain's "Dissecting Lovecraft" series. It's way more informative about the subject of HPL's influences, ideas and themes than I could possibly be in so few words.

I guess my impression is built more from stories like The Colour Out of Space and The Shadow Over Innsmouth, as well as the direct comparison of perspectives found in The Challenge from Beyond. Thing is, as much as the former story in particular is one monkey away from Outbreak in terms of gruesome biological horror, I find nothing inherently unsettling about these and similar ideas. The whole doom and gloom attitude seems more like a specific character trait, rather than something actually supported in the setting.

Mind you, incomprehensibility also is something difficult to present convincingly as a setting element, rather than a sign of inconsistent writing. Any writer can declare a fictional phenomenon as unknowable simply by refusing to flesh it out. That's why I'm not impressed by the RPG logic of "I came, I saw, I- Ia, Ia, Cthulhu Fhtagn!"

Instead, I'm looking for those setting particulars that remain horrifying even after they've been described more specifically. The meteorite in TCOS is one such phenomenon - a natural disaster that could strike anytime, anywhere, and there's nothing to stop it. That's an actual adult fear right there. Being descended from creepy fishmen isn't high on anyone's phobia list, but mutating into a hideous creature is something that's not only terrifying on the instinctive level, but only too real as a possibility. The results of anything from toxic exposure to congenital disease are more than enough to have people yearning for alien squid gods to turn to.