…and the sky full of dust.

The Impossible Blue Box

“There was a goblin, or a trickster… or a warrior… a nameless, terrible thing, soaked in the blood of a billion galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos. And nothing could stop it or hold it or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world.”

The Doctor: The Pandorica Opens.

There was once a magic-user who roamed the stars, occasionally visiting the world and putting right the wrongs wrought by Chaos; until one day he just disappeared, never to be seen again, all but forgotten. A legend, his name lost in time.

But his blue box remained, and has been sighted throughout the centuries, never in the same place and never for long. It looks like a tall blue box, hardly large enough for more than a few medium sized people to fit inside. Doors led inside, small opaque windows shed a soft yellow light, and a lantern that sometimes flashes rests atop it. Words in some unknown language can be read along the top rim, on each side, the letters worn and old. Even magic cannot decipher the writing.

The box opens at a touch, to reveal a space inside that is much larger than it has any right in being. Inside is a roughly circular chamber, arching to a dome. Supports hold up the roof, roundels adorn the walls, and a walkway leads up to a central area where a strange machine stands like some alien mushroom. The whole place looks organic, as if it was grown. Odd objects are sunk into the mushroom centre, controls of a sort. Levers and dials, buttons to press, flat panels that glow and reflect the light. A central crystal column raises to the ceiling, and a faint hum of power permeates the chamber. The whole room reeks of magic, but a weird and alien magic. And at the back, a doorway of some sort of coral-like stone leads to a corridor, to other rooms and tunnels, which reveal a much, much larger space beyond.

A dungeon inside a box. An impossible blue box.

Anyone attempting to use the controls has a chance of causing something to happen, based on a roll on the Controls table below. After time and experimentation it is possible (though difficult) to work out the correct sequence to activate the box’s powers: after every attempt there is a cumulative 1% chance that the user understands the controls, but only one aspect of it (roll on the Aha! Now I Get It! table to determine which; re-roll any duplicates if more time is spent trying to decipher the controls).

Controls table: 1d10
There is a 1 in 6 chance after each attempt that the console loses power and requires 24 hours to recharge, no attempts can be made during that time.

1. Nothing happens;
2. Nothing happens, but another try adds a 1 to the roll;
3. With a shudder the room shakes, and everyone inside must make a saving throw versus paralysis or fall over, taking a point of damage;
4. One of the flat panels comes to life, showing an image of outside the box (random direction, 45° arc;
5. The central column begins to rise and fall, accompanied by the sound of reality being torn apart: the box and everyone inside it is transported in a random direction for a distance of 1d100 feet;
6. The central column begins to rise and fall, accompanied by the sound of reality being torn apart: the box and everyone inside it is transported in a random direction for a distance of 1d20 miles;
7. The central column begins to rise and fall, accompanied by the sound of reality being torn apart: the box and everyone inside it is transported in a random direction for a distance of 2d20 miles;
8. The central column begins to rise and fall, accompanied by the sound of reality being torn apart: the box and everyone inside it is transported in a random direction for a distance of 1d20 miles, but also has a 1 in 6 chance of moving through time as well, with a 50/50 chance of heading 1d10 hours into the past or future;
9. The central column begins to rise and fall, accompanied by the sound of reality being torn apart: the box and everyone inside it is transported in a random direction for a distance of 1d20 miles, but also has a 1 in 6 chance of moving through time as well, with a 50/50 chance of heading 1d6 days into the past or future;
10. The central column begins to rise and fall, accompanied by the sound of reality being torn apart: the box and everyone inside it is transported in a random direction for a distance of 1d20 miles, but also has a 1 in 6 chance of moving through time as well, with a 50/50 chance of heading 1d4 years into the past or future;

Aha! Now I Get It! table: 1d6

1. Discovers how to make the images appear on the flat panel;
2. Can move the box in space, as per a Teleport spell, at-will but with a 1 in 6 chance of the box losing power and being unable to move until 24 hours have passed;
3. Can move the box as above, but without any chance of miscalculating, but only once a day, further attempts are as per the spell, with the same 1 in 6 chance of losing power;
4. Discovers how to move the box, as per the Teleport spell, at-will, with no chance of losing power;
5. Discovers how to move the box through time, past or future, but only stationary, and only for a random span of time (1d6: 1-2=hours, 3-4= days, 5=weeks, 6=months, and 2d6 to determine length), with each transfer having a 1 in 6 chance of losing power as above;
6. Discovers how to control the box to move through space and time, as per the Teleport spell and for no more than a month in any temporal direction, with the same chance of losing power as above.

The Impossible Blue Box is immune to external attacks of any sort, but the console in the main chamber can be damaged. Treat it as having an Armour Class similar to chain, and for every 10 points of damage inflicted there is a cumulative 5% chance that the controls will cease to work, requiring the box to repair itself until it can be used again. These repairs are automatic and the box reduces the % chance by 5 every day it is out of action.

Every time the box is exited and left empty, there is a 1 in 6 chance that it decides to move on, fading from this plane of existence with a heavy wheezing-groaning sound. It will never reappear for those who just left it.

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