We found it in the snow. On it’s side laying there like it had been there a few days. We brought it back home – letting it dry in front of the central fire in our dining area. A radio, in this crazy place! How did such a thing get here? Presumably in the same way we all did – and no one knew how that had happened. We were all keen to see if it worked (even if all we heard was static) – but twiddling the dials seemed to result in nothing. No lights, no noise, no click of something turning on.
It was beautiful looking Victorian object, all brass and polished wood. Just below the dial was a strange metal inscription we couldn’t read. There didn’t seem to be any cables or holes in the case to allow for power. Such a curious item.
We pretty much forgot about it after that – just trying to live in this frozen place took all our energy. But we did leave it the dining area. It was nice to have something of such high craftsmanship where everything else in our home was primitive and practical in comparison.
It was a few nights later and we had just sealed the front door of our home for the night. The work of survival had been done for the day – plants tended, wood gathered and most deliciously, dinner was ready – filling the dining area with delicious scents. It felt warm and safe. The first watch would be starting shortly before the “sun” went down, but that was some time away. Everyday we used this time to talk, discuss our days and share a meal together. We had quickly learnt how important these bits of normality were – feeling like living humans rather than just trying to survive. Morale was always so important. It had been a good day for us, there was some laughter as someone went into great detail about anatomical extras which had been added to one of the snowmen outside. The sound of wooden cutlery and eating filled the room.
Then without warning, the central fire wooshed out, plunging the room into complete darkness. Almost simultaneously the room filled with the incredibly loud sound of static. Terrifying loud and as we looked at the radio, we could see it’s dial now glowing with an eldritch green light. Then we heard the voice. Louder than God himself as it shook our very bones.
“DUKE STRIKE FRONT”
And then there was silence.
The Electromagical Vox Detector appears to be a Victorian radio. It allows the peons to listen to transmissions from both inside and outside of The Void. However, due to the inherent dimensional strangeness that exists in The Void, transmissions are often garbled and distorted. There seems to be no pattern to the frequency or timing of EVD events. Inside the EVD (should a peon dare open one up and risk damaging the beautiful craftsmanship) it is full of valves, frictionless gears and sigil carved crystals – a nightmare of occult engineering. On the back of the EVD is a surprisingly simple looking array of antennas crafted from brass.
From the gameplay point of view, the Electromagical Vox Detector is a technology unlock. It is required to unlock later tiers of research. One is required to be built/found in order to progress the tech tree. Which is a bit boring, I’ll admit. However, it also allows for some very awesome story telling, as well as a nice way of exposing some of the lore of Fringe Planet through EVD events. While building the model, I’ve looked at a lot of vintage radios and have decided that once Fringe Planet launches, I’m going to have to grab one. They are such beautiful looking things!
This is a quick timelapse showing the construction of the Electromagical Vox Detector – program used was MagicaVoxel. If you like content like this, make sure to follow me on Twitter. I regularly post content like this!
There is a lot more to read about Fringe Planet… why not try: