The Spore Creature Creator, from autistic demigod Will Wright, has spread at a breakneck pace throughout the internet since its release. YouTube is heavy and tumescent with short videos of various abortions of nature and blasphemies from people, ignorant in the ways of creation, anatomy, and a life without the horrible pain resulting from a spine bent at various, unnatural angles.

Even Ectomo is not immune to the siren call of such god-like powers. Qais has become so deeply drawn into his own, private Book of Genesis that we fear we may have lost him forever. Even now, as I write these words, I can hear the strains of Strauss’s “Also sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30″ wafting through the offices. He plays it so loudly that, even with his door shut, every movement can be heard quite clearly. His correspondences have even begun to suffer, consisting almost solely of links to videos of his newest life-forms; and they are always, at the very least, unsettling. I’m still not comfortable with anything having that many pairs of testicles.

Needless to say, then, that it was inevitable that the great Cthulhu would shamble forth from the diseased brain of Spore obsessed cultists. The number of different interpretations excreted onto YouTube is impressive, though they range from quite good to, frankly, awful. One can only wonder if, when the full game is released, we will see entire planets of Cthuloid creatures, growing and thriving until maturing enough to go off into the universe of Spore and lay it to waste.

Cthulhu à la Spore [YouTube] : Thanks, David!

Katy wrote in to say:

I am simply amazed by what these crafty girls can do with yarn. A knit Cthulhu? And knitted for her husband? What a lucky guy…

I remain suspicious Katy. Craftster member JenGoPop says she made this knit Cthulhu for her “husband”, but I fear it may be a cry for help. I cannot imagine a marital situation where such a fantastic Cthulhu — look at those eyes, they’re perfect — would be manufactured. On the other hand, a poor woman imprisoned in a suburban sweatshop in someone’s dingy basement, forced to work 16 hour shifts in order to meet a daily quota of diminutive, knit otherworldly beings seems perfectly realistic.

Big Honkin’ Cthulhu (Now with More Tentacles) [Craftster]

Yesterday, on Cthulhu Cthursday Eve, Ryan over at Ninja Dolls unleashed a furious flurry of stuffed, ninja goodness upon Etsy. There, nestled amongst the likes of Infected Pink Ninja and Yellow Sad Ninja lies the greatest of all ninjas. Bedecked in his azure costume, woven from the most demulcent of fabrics, Cthulhu darts silently through the narrow streets and atop the ominous roofs of R’lyeh, dispensing brutal, ninjutsu justice.

At 7 inches tall, he is large enough to strike awe and fear into all who witness his majesty and yet small enough to leap about unnoticed should some foul miscreant dare invade your living space; something they shall regret dearly as the stealthy Old One bears down upon them, their minds barely comprehending this denizen of the deep from beyond time and space before it neatly dissevers their head from their torso, their consciousness obliterated amidst a crimson geyser. Make sure to check out his site as well for upcoming ninjas *cough*moustache*cough*.

Baby Blue Cthulhu Ninja - 7 inch [Etsy] : Ninja Dolls

Complete with tasty beverage…OF MADNESS!

Cthulhu Cosplayer [My Confined Space]

For those of you who, unlike me, are allowed access to sharp objects and are of the artistic persuasion, One Monk Miniatures has available for download a Cthulhu papercraft model measuring nine inches tall with an impressive fourteen inch wingspan when completed.

Cthulhu [One Monk Miniatures] : Thanks, Tom!

Drew Pocza illustrates that even beings from beyond time and space have to strap on the corporate noose to pay the bills.

Calling Cthulhu [Artist’s Site]

A departure from the traditional image of Cthulhu but one that works just as well, making the Old One appear even more alien than usual. I especially like the long, thin neck combined with the bulbous cranium.

Sick Cthulu Illustration [My Confined Space]

Pictured above is a mailer that was sent out from a company called Veer. Is it not beautiful? It is the membership info for The Very Secret Order Of Creative Understanding, whose crest is emblazoned with the visage of the Great Cthulhu. If there are any criticisms to be leveled at this kit it is the fact that the room it is pictured in is not to be found at the Ectomo offices. Yes, you read correctly, Ectomo is not privy to this very secret knowledge! I know, it’s crazy that we, the stewards of Cthulhu Cthursday, have been omitted from the Order’s mailing list! It must have gotten lost in the mail. Yes, that’s it! Some errant postman must have espied our kit and realizing that he was in possession of forbidden knowledge, he kept it. No doubt the miscreant is, at this very moment, partaking in the secrets that are rightfully ours. That BASTARD!

Needless to say he won’t be able to handle it; he just doesn’t know how to parse that kind of information. So, if you see a postman gibbering with a wild look in his eyes let us know, as he no doubt has something that belongs to us. In the meantime we will have to settle for downloading this PDF which includes all the aforementioned documentation.

And to our postman: we will find you and we will come for what is ours, in the night, while you and your children sleep; and it will be unpleasant.

Veer: Elements for Creativity [Veer] : NOTCOT : Thanks, Tetsubo!

I’ll be honest, I can’t even bear to watch the news anymore. For those of you who don’t live in America the current contest to decide the next president has been going on, non-stop, here for about two years now. It is a constant barrage of sound-bites, platitudes, and nonsense. At this point satire isn’t even enough to get me to pay much attention. You too may be tired of it, even you who live in the parts of the world that our children are taught is simply called Not America. It is a disturbing trend in politics that most public official’s time seems to be spent in preparation for the next contest.

That said, however, at least there is one candidate who has the resources and ability to end this horrid cycle of Paid For advertisements and trite slogans. Ectomo is not political. We do not endorse candidates here nor do we wish to influence your decision, argue your chosen candidate’s merits, or win you over to our point of view. No, really all we want you to know is that we have accepted the inevitable, that it is not so much about change as it is about fate. You may argue amongst yourselves about who the best person for the job is but in the end it’s not going to matter. When he wakes up, we’ll all be food anyway.

The Stars Are Right [Flickr] uploaded by xtopher42 : Thanks, Christopher!

Rising out of the sugary deep to celebrate a special event, such as a birthday or the end of the world.

Cthulhu Cake [Flickr] : uploaded by raingirllori : Ectochat

The power of Ectomo is both wondrous to behold and terrifying to contemplate, as any ectomite knows all too well. Certainly it is a wonder closet of dazzling proportions but it also has a dark and unholy box perched on its top shelf, high up where little ones can’t get to it. Things lurk in this neat little package, things not fit for the minds of man, let alone his spawn.

One must assume, however, that some will find their way into Ectomo’s stash, perhaps when it was left out on the table; after all, these things do happen and the occasional moment of forgetfulness can be forgiven. Not so in this case, however. No, faithful readers, no in this case we must turn our stern eye of judgment toward one Nathan Myers, a gentleman with a wanton disregard for human life and a destroyer of innocence. Mr. Myers is responsible for the most heinous of crimes he has shown his no doubt wonderful and carefree eight year old daughter Ectomo’s secrets and wrought untold damage.

Once exposed to the tentacled, crawling blasphemy contained therein his once lighthearted progeny at once fell into a deep morass of babbling, incoherent madness; her eyes, no doubt, displaying the same dual irises portrayed in In The Mouth of Madness. Her mind shattered, she shuffled off and immediately took up a waxy writing implement and began to work feverishly, trying desperately to put on paper the horror that now assaulted her mind’s eye in a futile attempt to make sense of it.

The product of this sick experiment was this piece, entitled “Sun Goes Like This”. As you can see, clearly the dank recesses of Ectomo have wormed their way into every aspect of the poor little girl’s world, rendering everything a tentacled nightmare. A parade of transmogrified beasts — Shoggoth, perhaps — travel through an empty wasteland under the scorching gaze of a mindless, Cthulhoid sun, led by what appears to be a banished Innsmouth resident upon a R’lyehan death-horse. Truly a bleak and terrible world and a warning to all: the power of Ectoplasmosis is mighty and not to be wielded by those who would prove irresponsible. Take care, Nathan Myers, your daughter’s lost sanity rests on your head.

Driving the I-5 into the Los Angeles basin means a gradual immersion into a sort of toxic dustbath. All the exposed skin on your body becomes damp with the heat, and gritty with the particulate of one million belching tailpipes. No desert wind dips into the dugout city, only skims the pudding-skin off the smog as it passes by overhead.

Toxins in a biome cause mass extinction, sickness, mutation. The vast majority of the Los Angelan population is what’s left when everyone vulnerable, everyone who can be poisoned or infected, has died or crawled away. The remaining residents suck in their soot with relish, their brains going mineral with coal buildup.

These people, the ones who actually like it there, stay in LA to be with their own kind. They go to Pinkberry in their slouchy boots and sideswept hair, sucking down frozen yogurt and gibbering about MySpace. They shop at American Apparel, “study” at Starbucks. They are hell’s own furies, and you will never see them spend a dime in a place as otherworldly as the Nova Express.

Nova glowed and pulsated with the galaxy of alien artifacts gathered within. It was open late, very late, and stood facing the far more staid Canter’s Deli across Fairfax. It was a blacklight beacon in the cold vacuum of the city, attracting its own kind of alien moths from out of the void. Nova was sincere in its playfulness. It had no schtick, no target demographic, no bullshit. Its theme was true. The giant Cthulhian fursuit, the holographic collages, the lava lamps and blobby tables: all authentic, somehow, amidst the creeping urban styrofoam that surrounded it.

Nova’s children were the tiny knot of undefeated survivors in the apocalypse, still maintaining sanity and hope, scattered throughout the Angelan dustbowl. I spent hours there on every visit, dipping myself into this ultraviolet recovery tank, seeking relief.

Stickypig, nee’ Jhonen Vasquez, is one of the Few. Sheltering from the zombie horde, and occasionally making forays into the wilderness for daifuku buns and tea. His thoughts on the closing of a favorite spot ring horribly true.

For each one of these places that goes down, twenty Starbucks open up, and there will always be hoards of people that pile into them with their laptops and homework, not knowing any other world but this faceless, personality free zone of comfort, inhabiting these monstrous places like the bacteria that will grow in even the most hostile of places, boiling ocean vents or supposedly clean rooms in space stations, perfectly willing to feed off the soulless atmosphere of it all. Fuck, I’d rather have a nice cup of tea while burning to death on the lip of a boiling ocean vent than have to listen to that guy did the Curious George soundtrack sing a happy tune at a Starbucks. No offense, Jack Johnson, my venom is not directed at you.

Elder Gods and C’thulunoid by Mike Dubisch.

The Art of Mike Dubisch [Artist’s Site] : MONSTER BRAINS

Cthulhu - Raising Arms [My Confined Spaces]

A small sampling of the work of Deviant Artist “thebiscuitboy” which includes two, baby Cthulhus and a Cthulhu clock!

deviantART [Artist’s Gallery] : Super Punch