Punished By Laugh Craft Sample

As long as you don't modify, sabotage, steal or manipulate this file & respect my rights you may offer it for download on your legal website of choice! I knew from the start that my ideas would be stolen, maybe that's why new stuff from me must be paid first??? ADULTS ONLY! Sex, heresy, vulgar polemics & madness mentioned with pride!

Punished by Laughcraft EARLY SAMPLE Revised Version for my “My Cult of Thoolhoo” Author: Andrè M. Pietroschek © All rights reserved [email protected] or [email protected]

Welcome to the story which I already published with dark end for protagonists (called 'Banish with Laughcraft') as the triumphant protagonists (called 'In bed with professor Hammersmith'). This time, a quite different (or weird and pseudo-drug-crazed) perspective is needed. Remember, that you can read 'My cult of Thoolhoo' to get into the authors contemplation, before reading this. Be reminded, that academics and science are the insane gibberish here. Lovecraftian Cthulhu myth chaos does not follow rules, it devours or annihilates them! Now, some hints to readers who never read H.P. Lovecrafts „Shadows over Innsmouth“, August Derleths „The Star Gate“ and are unaware of Cthulhu style Role-playing Games. Lovecraft "used" his sickness to inspire the myth of evil, chthonic deities, who interacted with planet earth since it came into existence. Small groups or single individuals stumbled across the myth, went insane, suffered a horrible death or came to the shocking realization that they were part of the myth and set apart from all humanity. Main idea is that the myth cannot be understood or countered by neither science, religion nor occultism. Every insight concerning the truth is another step into madness. Please excuse my short cut version, sample is free, but without money no full version will be published. Readers shall be aware that in reality there is no evidence that I write truth about real persons in my fantasy texts. Cthulhu as role-play usually includes the following experiences: The chance to emulate a classic, one could nearly say archetypical, character of your choice. See how it develops in a (for now) loyal team. Yes, emulate, not mimic or transmute into. Role-play style happens with imagination and not like theatre. That is LARP. Next, the chance to game in the era of prohibition and gangsters colliding with the unspeakable and cruel reality of myth. The summary of shock, madness and inescapable Salvation via a cosmic and tentacled nemesis and its minions.

Cheers, I broke my word! This peculiar similarity between what Lovecraft wrote about cosmic horror fiction & what (pseudo-) witchcraft offers for the real world... It is simply suiting. I would LOVE to enthrall you with some flair of secrecy and of course something of occult significance is here... while I deceived myself to think I just pasted a futile quote into my text. It's from Paul Huson's 'Mastering Witchcraft'. My respectful regards.

This is a FICTIONAL e-text, inspirational file for a PC game& radio audio tale which I most probably can never afford to make real? I admit my translation reduced the quality, am just a silly German degenerate. Special Thanks: Christian Günther for what title I translate 'The night was stormy, Hamburg 1923', a gratis adventure with unique idea! Discounters, making poverty a notch less pestering. Freeware suppliers of the world, for without them, I would be discriminated against for my bank account number all my life. The Muse, as if a Jedi or Sith could be without 'the force'. The community, made no money yet, still crucial & often welcome they were. Pink, for making money with a protest-song instead of helping for real?

Pre-sets for the readers mind To 'translate' this story-source into the one true, de facto correct & enlightened perspective: One break with 'My cult of Thoolhoo' is needed. The United States of Allah cannot yet exist. In pseudo-history of the game they would already be established. Trinity of protagonism. As that original story had it's three ego-maniacs (ahem, dear protagonists?) the myth will send three mortal, cultist lieutenants. They are, naturally, only for story purposes that veteran figures. Pauper. I should have kept silent. This nickname, which I used years ago in a meaningless chat-room, already haunts me. The figure once intended as worthless wretch of an example, seems now 'special' to some? Sometimes the deed is easily done and consequences explode into an escalation of the utter unwanted or the wicked unbearable. The Lorekeepers scroll, PRELUDE fthagn iäh iäh Today, 01.06.1923 (the enemy calls this: 'date', novice), the investigations of our leadership ended. The last months were filled with a nearly incomparable effort to illuminate the disappearance of the notorious, racist culprits struggling versus our most appreciated, frequently summoned guests. In the small town (that is what mortals call their mediocre settlements, newbie) by the name of Dunseith we found temporal salvation from their compulsive meddling. The mere fact that neither their uniformed meddlers nor the uniformed slaughterers killed or crippled any more of us faithful and knowing, can it be but a miracle? Outnumbered and outgunned the only evidence left was (despise XXL in the voice for audio=>) mundane meaningless waste, like bullets, bloodstains and clothing. In addition to their murderers, the Arkham instigator assaulted our souls with surprising many gangs of reporters. Just three cells of our faithful have managed to seriously impact on enemy resources. Be inspired, praise Fthagn, hail Iäh! Enemy Territory We couldn't prevent it, back then. All gods know we really gave it several tries. Weakened, fatigued and facing a brutal menace, we had just one option left: Scrying. Our cult was much more discriminated against back in those years. The enemy had all the advantages, we were forced into guerilla warfare, when all we wanted was to live our cosmical revelations in peace.

In the sanctuary of a damp cellar we lay, resting our bodies for the innate ability of perceiving the intruder. I know the enemy called it a battlefield, large scale carnage, in the first global war or such. We had chanted properly, we had the strength of self needed. Our selves were rushing across this cursed planet. Like a beacon, that villain shined like some infernal beacon! It must have been some powerful, antagonistic entity we witnessed at work. We have been there, when the gate into the enemy reality opened on it's own! And then, Adriano himself appeared. Just one instance and even to our senses from beyond did he look like a mortal. He couldn't be just that. Our scouts were devoured by the alien gate of the unknown enemy entity, six of us survived. Even for this minimum of knowledge we paid such a blood-toll. Read my notes in our sanctuary, if you want to prepare. We were not mistaken. When we awoke back in our bodies, the kindred were still in awe, our scouts bodies had been stolen out of our dimensions, as could be expected. Pauper in sacred communication ? Pauper: Fthagn: Iäh:

still doing his sacred chant Manifesting in divine grace (utter insanity the enemy calls it) Manifesting, straightening it's divine, black-hole robe.

Pauper: Fthagn: Iäh:

Ohm, my regards. Goad an idea maybe. Quick-draws some tool, vaguely resembling a Mauser pistol. Stares at Pauper and all spots of the cosm.

Pauper: Fthagn: Iäh:

About that weird creatures who oppose all truth. We listen. Fires the manna-blaster at Pauper, hitting his guts. Un-earthly colours form a vague circle around Pauper. The monsters are classified for your senses as: The Americans.

Pauper: Fthagn: Iäh:

Spits blood, collapses due damage and gains 'level-up'. Dies. Continues, quite trigger-happy with that pseudo-laser pistol Works celestial necromancy as few others could. Pauper lives once more, gone are the bullet-wounds.

Pauper: Fthagn: Iäh:

Could we make a little ...exchange? Now looks like an inventor who fixes that pistol. Listens though. Already knows what the simpleton wants of the entity.

Pauper: Fthagn: Iäh:

What makes my solution impossible this time? Dimensional realm exchange fee? (Repeats the weapon test.) What if we trapped the Americans here, for the other races do not deserve to ever suffer their presence, again? (Repeats the resurrection and restoration.)

Pauper: Fthagn: Iäh:

But it seemed such a cute instant-solution at first glimpse. Such faith for the price of such a barbarian mind...Dissolves. The Arab knew, yet few understood. Learn some rituals, the stars may be right much sooner, than despair suggests to you. Becomes slowly ethereal, then vanishes, too.

Pauper:

A continent full of berserk ghouls would be so much less dangerous nonetheless. Peeks at the void, ends contact ritual. Who is who – lieutenant Pauper (basics)

My lieutenant-concept: I named this figure Pauper. Pauper was a university-drop-out who caught a pretty serious sickness and lost grip on his finance. Having survived years of poverty and squalor, only to experience his failure to ever get rich and happy result in struggling versus despair. He was more the kind of guy to enjoy some solitude and contemplate instead of boasting or moaning. He sensed something pushing him through life while he drifted to unpleasant jobs and fading illusions of romance. The moment his life broke apart he began to 'see the evil of the society he was trapped in'. Pauper is dominated by the treacherous essence of Nyarlathotep. Pauper was fascinated by the occult and had a natural vice for drink or drug which allowed vice to grow within him. He displays a certain strain to the trained eye (reduced soul stat), speaking that his past experiences still take quite some tribute. His hobby is humbly publishing in 'weird tales' magazines, accidentally manifold about his real competition among the cultists. Since his first love died he was recurrently shocked about his cold-blooded sense of self which only increased his loss of stance in normalcy. Only in those rare moments when a ritual is about to succeed does Pauper really feel alive any more. This description is comparably weak and intended to be so. Any newbie should be able to come up with as much or re-formulate some cliché stuff to fit even better. If you choose a job, be reminded that property and duty can exist for a cultist. Further remember that cultists are 'at the lower end of the myths food chain'. Pauper is a callous individual who even enjoys to neutralize other cultists. While I guess psychology would say he blames society & planet earth for his failure, remember in this myth and from a cult perspective this is quite a truth. Further cultists are still human, they can go where other myth creatures would stir too much attention or simply don't consider to find stuff. Pauper bears the risk of normalcy for cults, too. One more crisis or just an income, car and a girlfriend away he could be a (beware!) normal citizen again. Pauper in stats: Assault OOO+O, Evade OOO+O, Life OOOO+LBA & Soul OOOO Stigma: The rogue Role: Cultist Lieutenant (1 of 3) Portfolio: Poor, degenerate, reckless, underestimated, faithful, sensitive, awareness, cocainecraze, treacherous

Typical Gear: cheap clothing, robe of dread, LBA (?), Manna-blaster with three spare-clips for reload. A book conquered from a cult caught by police special task forces (Oh, not by chance weird tales readers of Pauper as author?) teaching “Senses from Beyond” to cultists, gifting dire insanity to non-cultists. Rituals&Spells: Senses from Beyond, phantasmal Cthulhu, contact entity (Iäh/Fthagn)

Lieutenants as concept I recently published a file about my adaptation of Leadership for D&D, which is Dungeons & Dragons pen and paper role-playing by Wizards of the Coast and once TSR. The idea itself has been there from earliest Warhammer which I remember. Heinrich Kremmler or the von Carstein nobility of blood-suckers. Or the glamorous high fantasy of Birthright. A lieutenant is by competence, story purpose and summary: The 2nd in command. The lieutenants pay allegiance (like a vassal to liege-lord or lady) until they are cheated on payment or the leader freaks out (sorry, no Adolf H. death cult here). When the lieutenant does not work to fulfil the leaders will, then lieutenants are usually training or instructing the regular troops, gangs, cultists or whatever follows them voluntarily. For 'My cult of Thoolhoo' this means on this scale: Pauper is among the 'inner circle' of cultists who know and frequently meet/contact the real boss (cultist boss, entity is another topic). Knowing the task at hand, they try to instruct the soldiers or cultists (whatever followers it is about) and give their very best to reach the defined goals, improve equipment and score victories of opportunity. Treachery: Coups (I am your daddy now, bitch!) and betrayal could happen without any rules. Yet a competent cultist senses that the entity (translates into: your only power-source ever) does not want to lose a city, just because you thought butchering them all would be a damn good career-advance. Lieutenants can become leaders usually soon. Lieutenants are often willing to support generic cultists (guide and motivate them to qualify as lieutenant-to-be). That way the cults grow stronger and can extend into more conquered enemy territory. This solidarity must not be a character merit/virtue, it is a survival mechanism because the enemy is strong and has superior replacements and supplies for several years to suffer through. For this story the lieutenants have the same bonus, as those other protagonists had them for the story. Pauper had only some 'trial by fire' and only some ordeals behind him. Here all lieutenants have a notch more. Check what stats Adriano, Crowley and JTP got & you may see the balance. Personally I hope to outmatch certain cliché often written before. Yet readers as players should understand that the lieutenants have a job to do or goal to reach even when their true role should be inspirational myth-wise. In my simple approach of My cult of Thoolhoo the group would be made of equals who fulfil their own lieutenant function by qualification for each task at hand.

After some learning and surviving some ordeals, their competence would decide, if they are lieutenants. The entity (translates into: your only power-source ever) would decide, if it is officially recognized though. This is often beneficial for gaming purposes, not as eternal rule without proper exceptions. Did you feel disturbed by these notes (mortals) or increasingly initiated due them (us cultists), dear readers? ☺ Sometimes I am really fthagn, with doses of Iäh! Prelude continued Some time between 1916 (Adriano appears) and early 1923: Peacocks early triumph. The illusion of the easy victory. While we had just managed some scrying, Peacock managed to grab the initiative! The enemy group had cowardly withdrawn deep into enemy territory. Hiding in their fortress, celebrating their vile crimes as glorious deeds and bragging about the propaganda they were deluded enough to believe themselves. It was named the opera! It must be some counter-magical fortress with elite guards or some such villainy. What horrible sounds those monsters unleashed in addition. But we were strong and dedicated, welcome to our valiant folklore. Peacock had wasted no time. He must have sensed that the stars were right, as seldom before. In an age threatened by mundaneness and normalcy, we still had our heroes. In his moments of enlightenment Peacock had foreseen, or sensed by prescience, the one chance to retaliate against the abominations supported by that vile creature named Adriano! His cultists shunned no risk, deep into enemy territory they ventured, open to any attack. Chanting the most powerful incantations heard in centuries, they summoned our baleful avengers. They under Peacock, who ensured that our fallen did not die in vain. Burning all their essence (accepting complete destruction of their soul stat) they summoned the defenders of our faith and way of life. But behold! This was not all. After the most strenuous rituals, which even the Arab (most infamous enemy spy ever) was afraid to write about, they attacked. Catching the monstrosities off-guard we punished their crimes. It was a glorious date, a moment which made the entity respect our efforts so much more. The torturers and murderers didn't even understand what hit them. Our avengers manifested into this evil, tainted world and struck true again and again. Blood had the enemy taken and now enemy blood was taken back. We even ended that horrible sounds they dared to call music. We knew six of their leaders were hiding in that opera fortress. Of three we were relieved due the summoned reinforcements. And in even greater glory, Peacock himself charged in. Duelling with one more evil bastard of normalcy, fighting to his death! We know he must have been exhausted from the ritual, we swear they back-stabbed him, there can't be another explanation. Even dying, he neutralized two enemy leaders and dozens of their vile thugs in uniform with nothing but his ritual-blade as weapon. (Yeah, sure, dream on?)

Great glory was bestowed upon our cult and yet, victory was not complete. One craven monstrosity fled instead of making a stand: Adriano Putana. It was as I write it down, for when we had to withdraw, the miracle awaited. The forces from beyond brought Peacock back to life! Oh, what a glorious day. Chapter 1 – We underestimated the enemy Adriano Putana had survived the onslaught of justice. The wild card in the equation didn't falter when we freed the planet of his fiancé either. On the contrary, he gathered new recruits for his insane cause. We have that picture from the device (camera) in our archives. The enemy staring at some pseudo-divination piece of paper (the tarot card, ace of wands, assault of a single brave soldier). How could such enemy make such idiotic mistakes? Was it a feint? Peacock, reborn in our sacrament joined our leadership. Soon thereafter three new lieutenants were announced: A robed, urban veteran from Europe, now known as lieutenant Pauper. Serena Crone, recruited from the golden order of astral dawn, USA. Yousuf al-Debar from the most martial allies of all Arabia. Each of them was assigned a squad of cultists and given long-term orders to ensure our ultimate triumph through competent application of myth and acumen. Or some such. Mortals can not even imagine and if, then they don't dare to. As we lay in the torpor of myth meditation, ignoring this mundane world for the greater truth of cosmic revelations. Before the minds eyes they began to appear, depicted in all credentials which the entity verified about them. They were of us, they were worthy to lead us, into glory as ascension. Little did we know that it would be in 1922 that our lieutenants would make each others acquaintance in Kali-City (Calcutta), India. Naturally few could anticipate that the enemies would drop their masks and assault us there. Their propaganda dared to proclaim our peaceful, utterly democratic religious festivity to be a weird, murderous cult. As if such could ever be. Insane, infested by dogma and indoctrinated into that disease called normalcy, they must have mistaken our damage-minimization to be a summoning. As if there could be another truth behind their crimes, again. The secondary enemy was called heat. Oh, what we suffered from the environment and how great was the souls tribute to another cultures definition of normalcy. A wicked alliance of uniformed thugs and those new lieutenants accompanying that Adriano creature we had to defend against. We had an expensive victory in the 1st India campaign. By means of deception did we make war. Deception, by good old medieval British dictionary, meant cruelty before it became another word for trickery or subterfuge in this, our hostile modern age.

We were new in that area. Of course we used our special senses, chants and incantations. The stars had been right, just some months ago. There had to be traces. 1st telepathic sendings or transmissions from the lieutenants, as preserved in slime. ●

Pauper:

Horrible things, these aircraft's. Using them for travel is a sure way to infest spirit, mind and soul. I still wonder, what a parachute is good for. Make sure my cultists practice that emergency ritual of binding. ●

Serena Crone:

My sisters know I am on the line of duty. I shall not fail them, while they are trapped in the enemies cauldron. Divination foretold a strong male counter-cult and a special welcome committee. I am prepared. ●

Yousuf al-Debar:

The ordeal began, I shall make sure that any resistance tastes my blade. Shall they die like Christian swine. India has a climate betraying mundaneness. The heat often makes people go insane, which we can harvest from. Others, the chosen few, glimpse our truths and join our ranks. Always remember, we are not alone. As in those caverns. Oh what a great encouragement to keep our spirit up. We arrived in that realm as scouts and were welcomed by a superior breed! Their beauty alone often demands a well prepared mind. Something those university-menace fails to handle entirely. But we were new back then. Fresh lieutenants, superficially acquaintance to each other and sadly, oh so very sadly: falling prey to the joy of the moment. The caverns were intended as our hidden sanctuary. We had plans to do our rituals, after recruiting more of our kind. With that Adriano as a shrouded spirit, we had no chance of true scrying. Pauper was on some ordeal of opportunity. Some minion of the mundane, called Derek Nail. The European was away for some nights. Only feedback was his sexual greed for our sister from the witch-cult. But he must have gotten it done. Nail, an academic evil, lost all understanding of his own investigation and wasted his time with some meaningless harlot. While our Arab surely was more of a stealth expert, Pauper had timing on his side on that sacred task. He fought with acumen, not running the risk of bloodshed stirring attention. Yes, Pauper seems to be sensitive when it comes to attention. Even that of his own equals seems to repulse him a bit.

Pauper: I was simply lucky. I watched the housing of Nail and remembered pride. Pride, or the inability to handle such is, what makes academics be willing frauds and saboteurs to their own causes. I suppressed the envy for Nail got that gorgeous whore laid, while I was monastic once more. But for just five dollars had I purchased (acquired in ways which the enemy does not easily notice) an alternate version of Nails tome. Exchanging them reduced the options of him ever finding any truth, resulting once more in his fallacy becoming declared scientific facts. I should have neutralized that couple straight in their carnal athletics nonetheless, i guess. Should find out what ritual or relic would make that female lieutenant cooperative to my own whim. Damn, the shadow is lurking. That minor vibration of dimensional patterns. When Pauper strengthened his spirit due indulgence, Yousuf and Serena made their first communication with the dweller of those caverns. Looking back (retrospective) this was crucial. It was one step, which the enemy couldn't undo. The sacred creature had long reported to it's own kind, when the craven, dirty surprise attack hit us. Exhaustion spoiled the chance to shield our ally. When we sensed the menace, it was already a funeral-march. Rites and incantations for our fallen benefactor. Investigation of what must have happened. Yousuf was growing darker, Arabian wrath fuelling his aura for days. Due to overcoming the racism we once had innate, we got on those villains trail! It was Serena, due her unique background, who revealed several threads of options, uncovered the vile culprits & desecration. Neither the soldiers, nor their commander would escape retribution. And we sensed the true minds behind this bloodstained evil. Withdrawal to initiated natives gave us an alternative shelter. Shelter we needed to finish the overdose of rituals which our situation demanded. Serena Crone: The Adriano creature was haunting us again. Escalation seemed necessary, until the European dirt-bag really surprised me. Not that he would have stopped staring at me, even while I talked to him. I took a walk after some scrying and saw that rot-mouth come out of the Arabs room. Whatever his words must have been, the darkness of the Arabs wrath was now combined with a bloodthirsty cunning. Just hours ago he was nervous, like a blood-hound waiting to be unleashed. Now a lucid serenity made our routine. The lieutenants must have discussed strategical options while I was doing the scrying. Even though I do not need them, it is reassuring to know they actually do anything above basics. I contacted the sisters in Salem soon after contemplating. Al-Debar practised with blade and such. From Pauper came a flare of sorcery. Simple and unstable, yet with rising repetition. No surprise he was that sleepy in day-light. He must have worked on his rituals for several weeks by now.

Yousuf al-Debar: Sufism and other heretics had their benefits then. If nothing else, they made us get used to the petty ways of the unenlightened lower cultures. The pale witch was unworthy, as a woman at least. A book-worm with mediocre tits. Weak, proud and harshly attractive. Fatima never blessed those lands, which were tainted even by Christianity. The European was not much of a man. But his acumen surprised me. There was some power within him, not much though. If you ever want to make a monkey win at the shooting range, let it compete against Pauper. We expected the next onslaught. A warning we could give to the initiated and faithful, then the media brought it on. This time the price was mostly time. We had to be patient, knowing that precisely this would allow us to hunt down most of the culprits. Clarification, classified & chaos-born 1. The Arab. Abdul al-Hazred or how-ever we western barbarians misspell such names. I made a detailed note in 'My cult of Thoolhoo.pdf'. Check it on demand? 2. Arabians. Not the real culture and not against Muslims either. For all you need to know in context: Not even in wildest dreams could creatures or fictions like Aleister Crowley, Eliphas Levi or H.P. Blavatsky, Merlin, Morgana la Fey, Lamia herself or Gandalf ever reach their typical level of competence and understanding. Arabian sorcerers and myth-semantics are simply the elite (of humankind mortals) . Much like cops were always flawless in classic Lovecraftian fiction. Expect nearly all Arabians to be even at minimum some form of master in necromancy, demonology or other very dark sorcery. 3. I am not too interested in 'guerilla warfare'. I try to describe a struggle between different 'lifestyles' and reasons as propaganda (or polemics) for doing that. While certainly some real world news sicken me, it is only a by-product to write it away into fiction. I know that this solves no real problem, it is not even aimed at such. It is about fiction & gaming, sometimes hard to distinguish, not just for people outside the scene/subcultures.

Andrè M. Pietroschek, [email protected] Dreesweg 13 45143 Essen Federal Republic of Germany

Recommended Reading & movies: Checking with web-pages which mention original Lovecraft sources (i.e. The Lovecraft archive) as Call of Cthulhu rituals or reading the official books sure won't hurt too much. I don't delve deeply in it, for I am not certain if it would need licenses. Further the game guide who feels inspired to indulge in my cults of Thoolhoo will most probably include what he or she finds proper anyway. I would say reading “The case Charles Dexter Ward” with the perspective of a cultist in mind. “WoD Antagonists” has some interesting chapters (“The Thief” or about us occultists). Lovecraft's “The horror at Red Rock”, “Nyarlathotep” and “Dreams in the Witch-House (our own, too)”. Pietroschek, Andrè Michael??? Not really. ☺ Movies: Evil Dead, In the mouth of madness & Lord of Illusions. Pirates of the Caribbean, parts 1 or 3 (humorous, simple-minded approaches), Sleepy Hollow (living with dread & guilt). The Ring 1&2 ??? Double Vision – Five Hells was a noteworthy Asian flavour style to me. That movie with Denzyl Washington versus Azazel! FOLLY: Recommended rituals, real world: ● ● ●

Go make some vision quest or soul-search equivalent to check, if Nyarlathotep has stored messages for you? Learn lucid dreaming, find the proper way and go meet Cthulhu. We shared our software and we shared our dreams (chain of thought, or absence of same). Summon either occult or weird dimensional entities to go on a rampage through several North American cities. Alternately, let some more Asian islands worship their chthonic deities once more? Simplified, outmatch or honour the traditional myth-miracles for each culture on the planet.

The missing portfolios Serena Crone, portfolio (or simply stereotypical associations): Salem, Witches & Hags, Crones, gorgeous in disguise, female occultists, elite university of witchcraft and the arcane Role: Cultist lieutenant & there is no evidence that I was inspired to write her that way after chatting with a woman who loves nature and certain ritualistic esoterica anyway. Yousuf al-Debar, portfolio (or simply stereotypical associations): Machismo with a scimitar, warrior, sorcerer, intolerance, darkness, hard-liner Role: Cultist lieutenant& sadly very tainted (reduced quality) for all that insurgents, sectarian violence and propaganda of our western media spoil my muse. Is there an Arabian name with initials JTP???

Comparison ZOOM in most PDF VIEWERS is changed by clicking into that % or on the black arrow to open the pull down menu and choose size-display. The + and – icons (usually next to it) do the same, + to enlarge or – to shrink what you see.

This is, how my file looks with Linux Kanotix (installed to hard-disk). Every time I see the PDF in the Internet café where I upload or email them to publishers, they look 'much reduced in quality'. I know you can change the background colour in ADOBE as most other Microsoft Computer Operating System – PDF viewers by choosing 'settings, preferences or options' either due clicking file or edit to open pull down menu & select those. If your monitor or screen results in being very bright, no matter their options: Then making the background light grey instead of white often stops hurting the eyes. The classic blue background with white writing is sometimes causing headaches on longer files to read? Oops. One of the women who liked my texts is an artist. I should have asked her to illustrate my works, before I spoil it again... kind of humorous self-reflection.