The Cthulhu Mythos is a dark and twisted place in which unpronounceable deities scheme endlessly for dominion over the unsuspecting world of ordinary, everyday speech therapists. Ftaghns and Ia!s lurk in the depths of the earth, or brood inside distant stars, waiting to insert themselves into conversations about washing machines. And even when humans manage to get their tongues around the non-Euclidean terminology, who are these deities really?
H P Lovecraft didn’t know, because he made them up and then altered them as it suited him; Clark Ashton Smith had some spare letters in his Scrabble set, and added his own contributions. August Derleth, having worked in a canning factory, liked everything neatly packaged and labelled, so whilst he added his own beings, he also tried to sort the others into orderly groups which could be represented by elements, nature, and weight of contents when drained.
Hence his identification of Cthulhu as a water deity, despite Cthulhu’s known dislike of its enforced holiday in the oceanic depths. And Derleth’s creation of Cthulhu’s bad-tempered brother-in-law, Cthugha, when it was pointed out that he’d missed Fire out.
Writers continued to pile on long after Lovecraft, Ashton Smith and Derleth – Brian Lumley alone created eight hundred and seventy three Mythos deities, all of whom were surprisingly describable, and interactive. Ramsey Campbell attempted to stem the flow by developing a more modest number of well-characterised deities, most of these restraining themselves to British waterways and the less popular bus routes, but despite his brave efforts, things were getting out of hand.
So we realised that we should shoulder some of the organisational burden, being uniquely placed to do so. We once read some Lovecraft stuff, we can spell (mostly), and we have a Scratch’n’Sniff copy of ‘The Li’l Old Ones Go To the Seaside’. But what could we add? Is there any real agreement as to how the Mythos gods should be organised, unionised, and provided with an adequate dental plan? Not really.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Real Cthulhu Mythos deities don’t care if you know what they’re called, or if you can pronounce them. Only their obsessive human enthusiasts bother with that stuff.
The current broad – if inadequate – hierarchy has emerged over decades:
A. THE OUTER GODS
Attended by the Lesser Outer Gods, the Really Unimportant Outer Gods, and an extremely bad woodwind section.
B. THE ELDER GODS
Less powerful than the Outer Gods, but less nuts, and occasionally willing to help out humanity in return for worship and spare change.
C. THE GREAT OLD ONES
Not quite as Great or as Old as the Outer Gods, and in a mood with the Elder Gods. Mostly locked in their bedrooms or on curfew, thus rather resentful when encountered at all.
D. THE GREAT ONES
Not terribly great. The deities of Earth’s Dreamland. Looked out for by some of the other gods, like you would keep an eye on a dim but earnest little brother.
E. THE DISPOSABLE ONES
Sundry entire populations of Mi-Go, Moon-beasts, Yithians, Deep Ones, Serpent People and others, all appearing, or being wiped out, as required.
F. THE YOUNG ONES
A British comedy series from the eighties.
Z. HUMANITY
Of limited value and interest to any of the above. Even more disposable than Deep Ones.
That Cthulhu Mythos
Undaunted, we spared no effort in our research, apart from the effort of doing much of it. And after months of painstaking work, examining mouldering, yellowed tomes, certain obscene woodcarvings, and inscribed metal sheets hauled from abyssal depths, we can offer you the first entries in our easy-to-use guide to some of the key Cthulhu Mythos deities:
AZATHOTH
The speech impediment at the heart of the cosmos, driven insane by living next door to an inconsiderate and talentless flute ensemble. Father of Nyarlathotep, hence latter painting his bedroom black and staying away from home as much as possible.
CTHUGHA
Highly irritated being stuck inside the star known as Fomalhaut. Offspring are vampires on fire, and are therefore also highly irritated at their situation.
CTHULHU
Asleep.
GLAAKI
A more ambitious slug than most of its kind, which – after an unexpected meteor ride – managed to get itself pimped with some rad spikes and extendable wing mirrors. Prone to make embarrassing revelations on lakeside visits.
HASTUR
The Unspeakable, Unknowable, Never to be Named. Bored with being a minor shepherd deity, he stole some tattered robes from a nearby washing-line, went mad and became amorphous. And very yellow. Often seen shopping for masks in Carcosa.
ITHAQUA
Father of a Thousand Refrigerators, and Lord of the Snow Day, with a tendency to pick people up and then drop them at the wrong destination. Suffers from perpetual wind and red eyes.
NODENS
Primal music-loving pensioner, whose sea-shell chariot is powered by legendary beats, he is served by hordes of nightstands. Often confused with the god of Celtic travelling salesmen.
NYARLATHOTEP
Like a black Hermes who has attitude, but with his face pulled off. The only Outer God who likes riding camels and visiting Luxor, with more air miles than most Mythos deities, and may thus be encountered in places where jazz musicians or Goths hang out.
SHUB-NIGGURATH
Dark Mother of Malevolent Shrubberies and dedicated goat fancier. Prone to having children when disturbed or invoked without sufficient warning, hence her Thousand Young and constant headache. Also major ingredient in Caribbean curries.
TSATHOGGUA
Either a bat who ate a toad or a toad who ate a bat. Spends most of his time trying to get his Formless Spawn to stay in their basins, and stop messing the place up, godammit.
UBBO-SATHLA
Oozing, grey primordial porridge, without salt or syrup, and thus relatively inedible. Doesn’t get out of its grotto much, due to its habit of shedding amoebae at parties. Goes by name of Abhoth when trying to gatecrash.
YIG
The sound a serpent makes when stepped on.
There. Now you know everything you need to know about the Chtulhu Mythos. Really. For unrepentant readers, John Linwood Grant, the greydog himself, writes the occasional bit of post-modern-neo-deconstructed Mythosian fiction. Or something like that. Weird stuff, anyway.
You can find such work in various odd corners, including:
- ‘Messages’, in Cthulhusattva, Martian Migraine Press 2016
- ‘With the Dark & Storm’, in Equal Opportunities Madness, Otter Libris 2017
- ‘Where All is Night, and Starless’, in Chthonic, Martian Migraine Press, 2018
- ‘Strange Perfumes of a Polar Sun’, in The Mountains of Madness Revealed, PS, 2019
The Mythosian tales ‘Songs of the Burning Men’ and ‘The Yuggoth Club’ are also on their way this year.
And before you run away shrieking, why not take our ‘What Kind of Cthulhu Are You?’ quiz, a firm family favourite.
1. The vibrations of a human submersible are detected close to R’lyeh, intruding on your realm. Do you:
a) Use unspeakable protoplasmic servants to investigate and update you on the level of technology that the humans have achieved, making careful notes on their propulsion and weaponry?
b) Rise in majesty from the depths to tear the thin shell of the submersible asunder?
c) Turn over on your hideously carved obsidian couch and let it go?
2. The fungoid hordes of the Mi-Go have gathered in the void beyond Earth, threatening to come to the planet in large numbers. Do you:
a) Tell the Deep Ones and any other followers of Mother Hydra and Father Dagon that the Mi-Go are delicious, especially fried lightly in butter?
b) Thrash your tendrils violently and threaten the Mi-Go with immediate obliteration if they proceed?
c) Write it off as another boring alien experiment with humanity and brain cases?
3. Some Massachusetts academics complain that your vile emanations are causing their more artistic students to descend into madness. Do you:
a) Suggest that their students apply for Arts Council grants and call their work ‘installations’?
b) Obliterate the entire east coast of America with vast tidal waves?
c) Sink back into slumber and try to emanate less?
4. Human writers are publishing an increasing number of stories about your malign and eldritch reality. Do you:
a) Encourage these amusing fictions in order to disguise your true purpose on Earth?
b) Destroy their puny minds and leave them hollowed-out shells whose eyes reflect only the abyss?
c) Read a couple of their stories and doze off halfway through?
5. Hastur rides the storm above your Dread House at R’lyeh, complaining that he is the true heir of Yog-Sothoth. Do you:
a) Calm him down by pointing out that he has Carcosa to himself, and at least his place isn’t under water and leaking badly?
b) Invoke Azathoth, who blasphemes and bubbles at the centre of infinity, in order that Hastur be rended into vaporous nothing?
c) Write it off as another of Hastur’s tantrums and go back to sleep?
Your Answers
Mostly a)s. You are an imaginative thinker with a good sense of delegation. Well done. You are a CREATIVE CTHULHU.
Mostly b)s. You have spawning issues, and need to look into anger management therapy, as well as counting to ten before you act. You are a DESTRUCTIVE CTHULHU.
Mostly c)s. You may have narcolepsy, vitamin deficiencies or a number of under-active thyroid glands, and should seek medical help. Or, you are just a LAZY CTHULHU.
Further Lovecraftian/Mythos articles can be found on greydogtales across the years, such:
http://greydogtales.com/blog/cthulhu-may-not-live-here-any-more/
http://greydogtales.com/blog/cthulhu-for-girls/
http://greydogtales.com/blog/krakens-and-cthulhus-squids-no-more/
http://greydogtales.com/blog/paul-stjohn-mackintosh-on-lovecrafts-legacy/
http://greydogtales.com/blog/lovecraft-lee-and-the-elder-gods/