Nonhuman Deities

While I like some of the "classic" nonhuman deities (meaning those in AD&D Deities & Demigods and in Roger Moore's Dragon articles), their existence raises some questions for the world, some of which I have been thinking about as I consider them as part of my detour into the religions of the Flanaess in my Greyhawk series. 

First of all, the suggest nonhumans are monocultural or at least were monocultural at some point in the relatively recent past because all of them have the same gods, or their gods are very activist and keep their worshippers on the right path by constant intervention. Admittedly, this might not be that much of a problem given we're discussing a fantasy world where the gods (at default) are demonstrably real.

The other problem is that how these deities relate to the human deities isn't clear. In Greyhawk, though the human deities have various cultural origins, many are now worshipped by people of multiple ethnicities and cultures. While neither the Folio nor the boxed set goes into this sort of detail, I would assume that this means their mythologies are likewise intermingled. Where does this leave the nonhuman deities that aren't even mentioned in those works?

One solution to this problem (and one I'm sure I'll employ it to a degree if I write on the topic) is to assume a degree of interpretatio humana so that the nonhuman deities are seen as the elvish or dwarvish names or aspects of gods the various human cultures are already familiar with. Another would be the demonization of the deities of groups with whom hostilities exist, so that orcish or trollish gods might be seen as known demons/devils, or simply as yet another of those legions.

The other side of this would be new humans cults emerging that would incorporate nonhuman deities, sometimes with new (and perhaps even erroneous) interpretations. How would one have an erroneous interpretation when the gods and clerical magic are real? Well, again, I think it depends on how you believe those things work. 

The Old World of Greyhammer

Despite their differences, the Old World of Warhammer Fantasy (at least as presented in WFRP 1e, which is the extent of my knowledge of it) and the World of Greyhawk have enough similarities, I think, to make a mashup both easy and interesting. Both have Andersonian/Moorcockian Law and Chaos alignments as a feature with Neutral a reasonable position, though it's not generally as militant a stance in the Old World as it can be in Greyhawk. Both have the Tolkienian compliment of races without the Tolkien-inspired epic. Both have an Empire that seems to take some inspiration from the historical Holy Roman Empire. 

The way history would go would be something like this: The technologically and perhaps magically advanced Old Slann open warp gates on Oerth, letting Chaos in and ultimately destroying their civilization. Their degenerate descendants are the scattered tribes of bullywugs. Human civilization arises relatively quickly through the rediscovered learning of this elder race, but the Baklunish and Suel eventually use that knowledge in mutual destruction.

Some centuries later, Oeridian tribes establish the Empire (combining the particulars or the Empire of Warhammer and the Overkingdom of the Flanaess). It persists to the present day, but it is a shadow of its former glory. Both all too human failings and the taint of Chaos have a hand in this decline.

I'm not sure what to do with the Chaos Gods, but I'd be inclined to replace them with Greyhawk deities, though I don't know exactly which ones.

I feel like this is a scene that could happen in both settings

The Old World has fewer countries, and they are more obviously analogous to earthly nations, but I don't think it would be particularly hard to map any particular aspect of the setting one wanted to a Greyhawkian surrogate. The default technological era is more advanced, too, but I don't really think gunpowder would spoil Greyhawk in any way. To honor the war game focus of Warhammer, one could also set the campaign during the Greyhawk Wars.

Neither setting is a stranger to punning humor, so there's that. Warhammer is grimmer than Greyhawk at standard, but I think the tones of both can sort of meet in the middle. 

Some Links on Naming

Thanks to Prismatic Wasteland's post, I was made aware of a blogwagon in the GLoGosphere about naming. I am not a GloGger, but that post got me thinking about the posts I have written about naming:

In 2021, I wrote a post giving my thoughts "On Fantasy Naming."

In 2023, I made some "Observations on Science Fiction Names."

In 2025, I advocated following Tolkien's practice and engaging in strategic translation.

In 2018, I presented this potentially handy Sword & Planet Name Generator.

In 2015, I discussed cultural naming practices in the Strange Stars universe.

The Mismatch in Appendix N

One of the things about Appendix N in the AD&D Dungeon Master's Guide is that, in the main, the protagonists of the works featured don't really represent the typical PC in the old school mode, at least in the way players first meet them at lowly first level. "You're no heroes" has become a cliched marketing line in newer games wishing to evoke the old school D&D vibe, but the fantasy protagonists of Appendix N are heroes, at least in terms of capabilities. 

In older D&D, characters get by cleverness (player skill) or by luck (die rolls), but even when we first meet them, the likes of Conan, Fafhrd & Gray Mouser, Ganelon, and Skafloc are skilled, puissant sorts. One might quibble regarding Fafhrd and Gray Mouser. They are presented in the chronologically earlier but written later Leiber stories "Snow Women" and the "Unholy Grail," as youths, but they seem to be pre-hero (call it 0 level) in those, to me. We are told that Conan, in contrast, was formidable even at a young age: "I was one of the horde that swarmed over the hills. I hadn't yet seen fifteen snows, but already my name was repeated about the council fires."

There is fiction more representative of these early level adventurers perhaps as likely to come to ruin as to succeed, but we don't find it as much in heroic fantasy as in other genres. Fairytales and legends with their less competent protagonists often have heroes escaping by cleverness or luck or Providence --or not escaping and meeting a bad end. Picaresque adventure novels and some novels in the Gothic tradition often have protagonists buffeted from one predicament to another and seldom do they get out of them due to their adventuresome capabilities!

While not as violent as D&D or as some older fairytales, the Oz novels have protagonists engaging in exploration, encountering dangers, and mostly having combat being a fail-state.

This sort of plot where characters either narrow escape (or fail to escape) does show up in fantasy, too. Lord Dunsany (who is in Appendix N) and Clark Ashton Smith have stories of this sort. Mignola and collaborators have created some stories in the style of these two masters in Bowling for Corpses and Other Strange Tales from Lands Unknown and Uri Tupka and the Gods. 

Are there any of the most frequently cited Appendix N authors and works that depict these sort of characters? I think so. Jack Vance with Eyes of the Overworld and Cugel's Saga, certainly, and Tolkien's The Hobbit.

The Apocalypse Now

Art by Jeff Easley

A lot has been written about the "Myth of the Frontier" underpinnings of D&D, and the games perhaps greater homology to Westerns than traditional fantasy in many ways. Interestingly, despite that clear element of the game's core assumptions, when we look at published D&D settings, we don't really see a frontier and expansion setup.

The implied setting of D&D, as a number of writers have pointed out, can also be said to be post-apocalyptic. That often conjures images of science fantasy writers from Appendix N, but of applies to in the literal sense if not the generic sense to the Hyborian Age of Conan and the 3rd Age of Middle Earth. Materially greater and in some ways more advanced civilizations must precede the current one for there to be so much wealth and magic to be looted in old ruins.

A post-apocalyptic setting allows the frontier to be closer at hand, and indeed really sort of obscures it even being a frontier, as no discernable border but instead the distance between "civilized points." Connecting these dots seems more reclamation than expansion.

That works, but in D&D settings like Greyhawk, Krynn, and the Forgotten Realms, the apocalypse is remote enough so that the current civilization doesn't seem post-apocalyptic, at least no more than the High Middle Ages seems to us recovering from the fall of Rome.

Yet, Greyhawk, for all its map full of named regions, heraldry, and rulers with elaborate titles, is really empty. Some of this exists to facilitate the desired game play, sure, but that's the Doylist explanation. I like the more Watsonian explanations of humanoid and demihuman groups that are not adequately censused coupled with events that have led to a decline in population.

As Chris Kutalik and other commentors suggested in his blog series of years ago, I think Greyhawk is best analogized not to some science fantasy post-apocalypse but to historical eras like the "Dark Ages" (or early Middle Ages) after the collapse of Rome, or the plague, famine and war riven period of the Crisis of the Late Middle Ages.

In many ways, I think, Greyhawk reads better as a setting where the apocalypse (or at least an apocalypse) is not the remote past but happening now or relatively recently. This isn't so much a total destruction kind of apocalypse but a "civilization is dealt a blow" sort of one. This allows for the breadth and complexity of social structures described in Greyhawk, but also for the population numbers and available real estate for enterprising adventures to carve out something for themselves. 

It's "points of light" to use the modern descriptor, but not (like so many of those settings) a rather static period, but one where there are still roving bands of invaders (humanoids, monsters, or armies of other human nations) and isolated communities that must either grow larger and more resilient or be wiped out. I should add, There's no one way the communities have approach this problem to survive. Orcs settling down to live in some sort of peace is potentially just as possible as driving them out and killing them.

I think this sort of implied framing could be fun to lean into. D&D settings need more Random Calamitous Event Tables and societies in flux (like we see in some epic fantasy like A Song of Ice and Fire). Christopher Buehlman's historical horror novel Between Two Fires and his fantasy series beginning with the Blacktongue Thief where human civilization is still dealing with the fallout from a disastrous (and still simmering) war with goblinkind are great inspirations, as well.

Elven Sects

Another way of recasting different groups of elves I've thought about is to draw inspiration from the wuxia tradition with its various kung-fu sects/schools/cults. Wikipedia has a nice (though I'm sure incomplete) list by author of these.

Though, I'm not opposed to kung-fu elves, mind you, perhaps in the case of elves, these would be based around a particular school or style of magic? They could be based on the elements or maybe the Classical Planets. They would presumably each be centered in a particular locale, probably remote from wider civilization.

Using this approach, different types of elves would have less physical or temperamental differences, but perhaps more philosophical ones. There might be rivalries between them. Since it's not an ethnicity but an allegiance, elves could move from one to the other, though perhaps not without some penalty.

I think this approach also has the benefit of making elven subtypes less background and more factions to interact with in gameplay.

Elves and Insects

I've suggested (way back in 2012) slapping some antenna on elves and giving them some organic-looking armor--in other words, reskinning them as the 80s Sectaurs action figures. I think the relationship between the faerie and insects makes elves ripe for this twist. I liked the idea so much, I made the elf stand-in species the Ieldra in my Gnydrion science fantasy setting have more insect like with brood queens and instars.

Back to regular old elves, though, I think replacing the Tolkien-inspired nations/tribes (or "subraces" in older D&D) of elves with insect-themed groupings has a lot to recommend it. For one, that group of bad elves, the drow, already have that sort of relationship with spiders (yes, I know they are arachnids, not insects), so there would be a certain symmetry in it. 

What particular insect type would depend on specifically how you envisioned them. Organized, social wood elves might be patterned after wasps or bees, but maybe they are solitary warrior badasses like Crow from Hawk the Slayer with more affinity for mantises?

I think the aloof gray elves would have the bushy antenna and pale complexions like some sort of moth, along with an ethereal strangeness. High elves might be bee-like (and matriarchal) or nimble warriors like dragonflies or damselflies.

I know that Adrian Tchaikovsky's Shadow of the Apt series has insect-themed races, so their might be some inspiration there, but I haven't read them to say. I know you could do a lot worse than checking out Bug Wars by Aaron and Asrar.

Fantasy Superheroes

A common criticism of later editions of D&D from fans of older editions is that they produce "fantasy superheroes." I don't agree with that characterization. In fact, I wonder why we don't see many rpg examples of fantasy superheroes because, like Stargazer here, I think it could be an interesting idea.

For clarity, I don't mean characters in a fantasy world that have secret IDs and codenames and fight crime wearing costumes--though I think a Zorro or Iron Monkey sort of frame of masked fighters for justice could easily fit what I am thinking of. Mostly, though, I'm just thinking of comic books like Battle Chasers or Dreadstar (the latter is really space fantasy, but its basic setup is a useful example) and animated series like He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (2002, particularly). Epic fantasy stories featuring super-powered characters. 

So what makes those examples "superheroic" in a way a 4e campaign isn't necessarily? In Superhero: The Secret Origin of A Genre, Coogan lays out his "MPI" definition of a superhero. That is, a superhero is a person with Mission, Powers, and Identity. He also has the fallback of "generic distinction" to catch characters (like the Hulk) that might fail by the initial test and to exclude characters that might seem at first blush to fit but are better accounted for in another genre.

Regardless of whether the fantasy heroes I'm thinking of would be superheroes in Coogan's estimation, I'm think about characters that:

• Have a mission, which might be something like "defeat Sauron," but could be something more like "overthrow the God-King who betrayed us." This wouldn't be the place for picaresque wanderings or "get rich or die trying."
• Have powers that are beyond reach of regular folks to a notable extent. Those powers would tend to require explanation and come with an origin of sorts. That could be as simple as "born an air bender," but whatever it is, it would set a character apart from most people. While this pillar is where there is the most overlap with modern D&D, I think D&D's approach to powers that largely makes then originless (other than being a particular class) and outside of spells, more an artifact of game rules than a setting element, fails to place it within the proposed genre.
• Have an identity, in the sense of being distinct, likely from other heroes in the party, but certainly from broader humanity. The difference between characters a normal D&D party is something like the difference between the members of the Fellowship of the Ring, but here the difference would be more like the differences between the members of the X-Men or Legion of Super-Heroes. I feel like a lot of identity is in a distinctive visual, but that probably comes from this subgenre being mostly a thing of visual media. Still, I feel like it would be something to think about in an rpg.

Weird Revisited: The Ahistorical History Setting

This post first appeared in 2017, but I think a trotted out back in 2020 as well. The occasion of the double repeat is discovering a post on RPGnet forums about a cool Hellenistic setting by Kenneth Hite I remembered from Supressed Transmission coming to Kickstarter, only to be disappointed to see the post was from 2018 and the projected abandoned...

Historically accurate Aristotle?

A social media thread about bad history in historical costume drama caused me to recall an idea I had years ago upon a re-read of Aaron Allston's wonderful Mythic Greece: Age of Heroes. At the time, Hercules: The Legendary Journeys was still in syndication, and while not particularly good, it did suggest the using of Greek Myth and geographic as a backdrop for a fantasy setting that might not otherwise have a lot of the trappings of Greek myth. For the most part, Hercules stuck to the big names, but there's no reason you couldn't get as detailed as Allston's book, but give it a wholly un-Mythic Greece feel.

The changes can be big. Reign: The Conqueror (based on the novel Arekusandā Senki by Hiroshi Aramata) re-imagines the life of Alexander the Great as a sort of science fantasy thing with giant Persian war machines and Pythagorean ninjas. Or, they can be subtle, like Black Sails weaving historical pirates with a sort of prequel to Treasure Island. (The difference I see between this last one and a standard historical setting which would generally tend to insert fictional characters, i.e. the PCs, into history, is the "high concept" of the literary/historical mashup.)

A lesson on Greek myth every week?

So I say go ahead and run a Kirby-esque space opera based on the book of Exodus. Recontextualize the War of Roses to have it take place in something like Warring States Japan. Or take the history presented in the Book of Mormon and turn it into a hexcrawl as Jeff Reints did.

Let history be your guide, not your boss.

In Alignment

Mostly discussions about alignment (probably since time immemorial) seem to circle around 3 opinions about it: it is just a suggestion for roleplay; it represents cosmic teams of some sort and isn't about character morality; and most commonly its bad and we just ignore it. 

Gareth Hanrahan's The Gutter Prayer suggests to me an interesting tweak to idea 2, one I haven't seen before. I mention previously the saints in that world who were empowered by the gods not due to faith or ideals, but rather due to be somehow psychic compatible with the deity, making passing divine power through them possible. You might say the saints are in alignment with the deity.

So, what if alignment was a bit like that? It does present being on a cosmic team but not a team the character chose, a team that they were born into. This connection would allow the character to speak alignment language and to be recognized as "marked" by that team, perhaps. Characters are free to behave whatever way they want, but they can't (or at least can't easily) change this affinity any more than they could change their bloodtype. It should probably be randomly generated or determined by class, I suppose.

For most characters, a lack of affinity with the ethics of the deity wouldn't be an issue under most circumstances, though for people like clerics and paladins who get more out of the connection, it would matter.

The metaphysical implications for a setting with this would be really interesting, I think. There are a lot of ways it could be operationalized. 

Parsulan

 A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned a new setting I was thinking about for after my current Land of Azurth game comes to an end. I now think I will call it Parsulan (or at least I will for the moment!) borrowing a name coined by a friend of mine for a setting we co-created back in the 2e area. I think Parsulan will be the name of the continent this campaign is focused on. I recycle some other names from that old setting, as well, in homage.

So in addition to the aspects I mentioned before, this is what I think Parsulan will be like:

Post-apocalyptic. Having been overrun by demonic forces (true demons and their allies) several centuries ago, the magitech-employing civilization that existed prior was reduced to "points of light." There are still in typical D&D and fantasy fiction standing, city-states isolated by sparsely populated wilderness.

Absent gods. The gods, at least the major ones, have forsaken the world and retreated into the Overworld. Clerics preserve the civic rituals practiced in the days of old and try to keep the old beliefs alive, hoping that the gods will return if humanity shows sufficient humility and piety.

Adventures Guild. It's a common concept in Japanese Standard Fantasy worlds, but as I envision it, it's has much more of a Jianghu element than the very modern employment agency/professional organization of so many anime, though it will likely have elements of that--as well as being a burial society.

Dungeon Zones. Inspired by the rpg Sword World 2.5's "shallow Abysses," I think there will be eruptions/excrescences of the Demon Realm maybe called "shadow cysts" which will engulf and distort areas of the land, leading into places of altered reality and danger. These form around a nidus called a seed or heart. Only neutralization of this heart will cause of rupture and ultimately dissipation of the cyst.

The Bottled Setting

I may have never played an rpg with one, but I've long seen the appeal of the "bottled setting": a locale that could be the size of a small city or as big as solar system (or more) but is in some way cut off from the outside. It might also be "managed" in some way, having traits established by who or whatever did the bottling, Kandor from the Superman mythos is probably the most famous of such settings, but it shows up in rpg settings like Empire of the Petal Throne and Metamorphosis Alpha in addition to numerous places in fiction.

The inhabitants of a bottled setting may or may not know they are bottled. If discovering that fact or discovering the why or how of it is the main focus of the setting, you're may well be looking at a Mystery Terrarium. Really, though, all that stuff can just be background for a setting with any other sort of focus where the boundaries just happen to be hard stops rather than the place where things get fuzzy.

What's the appeal of this sort of setting? Well, for one, it can be used to disguise the true nature of the setting. The universe might actually be science fictional, but the "bottle" marks the boundary within which you can run a traditional fantasy campaign, if you want. Crossing the boundary can then mark a major turning point in a campaign, like potentially to a whole other sort of game. 

The other thing is a that a bottle need not be impassable. Krishna in de Camp's Viagens Interplanetarias series is a sort of a bottle wherein people from a technologically advanced, spacefaring civilization can play at pseudo-Medieval Sword & Planet heroes. Portal fantasies, in general, are not necessarily bottles but could easily be (particularly the sort involving a person somehow getting sucked into an MMORPG world). That allows players to play characters much more like themselves but still get involved in fantasy action.

In the end, though, I suppose the creative constraint it applies makes for an interesting challenge and heightens the potential for player engagement with setting mysteries. Vast traditional settings are great but there's nothing like having the players hit a wall they didn't expect to be there or have hints dropped that things aren't what they seem to get them engaged.

Mysteries of Tatooine

In discussing this recent Youtube video arguing Star Wars (1977) suggests a setting without FTL communication, my brother and I gradually drifted over to considering some minor mysteries regarding the desert planet Tattooine. The central question is: "what exactly is Tattooine's place in the galactic civilization?" Luke tells us: "If there's a bright center to the universe, you're on the planet that it's farthest from," but is that just the restless teenager in him talking?

Canonically, Tattooine is a sparsely populated world located on the Outer Rim, though Wookieepedia suggests the whole concept of an "Outer Rim" doesn't appear in the films until the sequel trilogy. This perhaps implies it is on the edge of civilization, but it's possible that it only means the edge of Imperial (and Republican before that) control. "Sparsely populated" seems reasonable given what we see in the films and the fact it's an entire planet, particularly when we consider this is a relative sparseness compared to the more urbanized, populous worlds.

There are, however, at least two details in Star Wars arguing against Tattooine as some sort of wilderness frontier. These have to do with the Jawas and Mos Eisley spaceport.

Used Droid Salesmen

The Jawas are scavengers, and they've got a big crawler full of junk that roams the desert and picks up "gently used" droids to refurbish (a bit) and sell to farmers and rural settlements. If Tattooine is sparsely populated and droids are so expensive relative to local incomes that people have to buy the pre-owned ones Jawas sell, then where exactly do all the droids come from that the Jawas scavenge?

It's possible the demand for used droids has to do with where droids come from which makes new ones scarce. Another possibility is that droids were traditionally priced beyond the reach of rural folk of modest means, but the end of the Clone Wars lead to something of a switch back to consumer focused production in the galaxy's industry over wartime production and restored supply chains, so that the wealthy inner worlders were able to finally get that new droid they'd wanted, leading to an abundance of older models on the market, analogous to the situation with cars in the U.S. after World War II. These older models would naturally wind up in the hands of dealers like the Jawas. 

Still, unless what happened to Threepio and Artoo is just an accident, it looks like they are roaming the desert picking up droids, rather than just waiting for their shipment at Mos Eisley. I think it's at least possible that the desert not infrequently turns up excess droids--and I have an idea as to why.

Scum and Villainy

Obi-Wan says of Mos Eisley: "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." This is from a guy who knows the Emperor is a Sith Lord and was made to fight in an arena on Genosis! In the Old West idiom frontier towns are often stereotypically lawless, but I don't think Tombstone or Dodge City would deserve a description like that. Also, Tombstone and Dodge City had reasons why they were boomtooms that drew the riffraff (silver mines and the cattle trails, respectively). 

Obi-Wan's description and the vibe of Mos Eisley in general suggests a pirate town like Port Royal, Jamaica ("the wickedest city on Earth.") Such towns would appear in places the law hasn't effectively reached, but close to very busy and lucrative trade routes. You wouldn't get a crime lord like Jabba rich enough to have a palace and sponsor speeder races without crime being lucrative.

Back to the Jawas and their scavenging: If pirates are often taking ships and hiding the evidence or just discarding the refuse, in the desert, well there would wind up being stuff for the Jawas to "salvage."

Tattooine On Viewscreen

I think the evidence from the movies point to Tattooine as at the edge of imperial jurisdiction, but in a well-traveled zone between the Empire and other, civilized regions controlled by other interstellar powers.  It's nature as a desert world means it is less desirable for heavy colonization, but its location ensures the thriving pirate boomtown of Mos Eisley, and the existence of power strongmen benefiting from that crime.

Differentiating Science Fantasy

Often science fantasy as operationalizes in rpgs is just some flavor of rpg fantasy with ray guns or robots, or "ancient technology" as the default explanation for something strange. (In fact, high tech "science" often  becomes the extraordinary thing in a setting full of magic but completely conventional in its portrayal of magic.) There isn't anything wrong with that, but science fantasy fiction points the way to making the genre feel different from a fantasy setting that just also has some lost tech.

More Psychic than Spellcraft

The magical effects (when they aren't technology mimicking magic) often tend to resemble psychic powers instead of spells or rituals.

Non-Medieval Society

In C.S. Friedman Coldfire series, the owners of a bookshop who are the victim of an attack by the magical agents of a dark lord of sorts have to worry the authorities will think they committed insurance fraud. There's no reason a science fantasy setting has to limit itself to mixing science fiction and the (pseudo-)Medieval. Elements of any era could be fair game, depending on the setting.

Device Dependent

In science fantasy, more magical effects are going to be the use of a device or chemical rather than a spell. A Polymorph effect, for instance, can still exist, but it would be from a transformation machine or "atavism ray" or the like. A variant on this is when a classical magic item turns out to be a technological device, like when Travis Morgan's putting a bullet into Deimos' crystal ball and we see circuitry inside.

Subtle Reminders 

Little details that point to the nature of the setting often help set the mood. Post-apocalypses (fantasy and otherwise) tend to excel at this. King's Dark Tower stories have a witch writing a note on an old Citgo receipt pad, for instance, but having an old device put to a new purpose is a device that works in science fantasy too.

Consistency

While in many situations "science vs. magic" in a fantastic context would just be cosmetic, it's important to keep in mind the different origins and make sure the details match. For instance, orcs that are embodied spirits of evil ought to operate differently in any number of ways compared to orcs who are a transplanted, anthrophagous alien species or orcs that are bioengineered servitors.

Longhaul

All the interstellar Science Fiction roleplaying systems and settings I can think of rely on faster-than-light travel (generic systems like GURPs or Hero System discuss the option of forgoing it, but I don't think either devote much space to it) and fairly rapid FTL, at that. It isn't surprising; most starfaring sci-fi literature does so as well. 

There are hard(er) sci-fi writers that generally adhere to a more realistic, slower than light universe, like Alistair Reynolds, Greg Egan or Charles Stross. Reynolds' star travelers enter cyrogenic "reefer sleep" to handle the years long voyages in "lighthuggers." Stross and Egan in some of their stories have digital minds broadcast across the distance as light to be reconstituted at the receiving end.

There are also works with sort of slow FTL, so that voyages still require years. Ruocchio's Sun Eater series has characters entering cryogenic fugue to pass the years. Simmons' Hyperion Cantos has FTL that still results in time dilation so ship time is less than the years than pass for observers.

It strikes me that whatever the method, space travel that takes long periods of time, and where the traveler is somehow able to personally elide the effects of so much time passing (either through cryogenics, weird time effects, or even just posthuman immortality) would make for an interesting aspect to a setting and campaign.

The PCs might set out as smugglers or free traders with valuable cargo for a 20-year voyage (from the perspective of the destination) and arrive to find the market had changed or a natural disaster had ruined their chances for making the sale. Mercenary PCs hired for a job, could find the government they were sent to defend toppled by the time they arrive or the person they were to report to succeeded by someone less friendly. 

Both of these changes are bad for the PCs, but they could have just as easily been advantageous. The point is with years or decades passing, the setting should hardly stay static. I think this would have the effect of modifying PC behavior a bit. It would make them take space travel less for granted, for one thing. Trips between worlds are no longer trivial. Two, even with cryogenesis or the like, long travel times would make PC aging meaningful.

Using a series of random tables to accomplish these changes would of course include the GM in the fun of discovery. A dynamic setting is often, I think, a more alive feeling one than a static one.

Clerics vs. Posthumans

Technology vs. magic, sometimes even to the point of a war, in a feature of a number of fantasy works, though I'm not aware of a published D&D setting that features it. 

Some science fiction settings have cultural/religious limits on technology, either as one facet of the setting or as a means for the author to keep technology in check to tell the sort of story they want to tell. Dune is the primary example, but there are series like the Sun Eater series by Christopher Ruocchio that follow its lead, and other settings that make it a feature. A more recent variant is a group or culture that rejects the rapid changes associated with things like cybertechnology and brain uploading. This shows up in Stross' Accelerando.

I think it would be interesting to sort of combine these concepts. Have the action take place within a fantasy world (perhaps a fairly standard one, or maybe a Spelljammer-ish system), but the demons, devils, and other Outsiders trying to get in and corrupt the world (at least from the perspective of the world's clerics and leaders who consuder them anathema) are actually posthuman intelligences that utilize technology, not magic. Presumably, "magic" (whatever it is) was what allowed these simple, unenhanced humanoids to hold on in a universe of much more powerful sophonts. The Outer Planes (as they view) them are really just planets, habitats or networks.

Of course, whether the Outsiders are really baddies would depend on the specifics of the setting--or maybe even be open to interpretation?

On Magitech

I'm going to define magitech for my purposes here as technology (in the sense of items that appear industrial, mechanical, or electronic) that is powered by magic. I tend to like magitech when it is done well, but I find it often isn't done well, in my judgement. I've spent some time thinking about what for me constitutes "doing it well" versus not.

There are, I think, different types of magitech in media, and the one that almost always works for me is what I would call naive. Naive magitech occurs when the portrayal of something mythic, fairytale-like (and I think those are the two most common modes) just happens to feature some trappings of technology. Stories with naive magitech give the impression the technology they feature is just assumed in the same way Medieval or early modern tech is just assumed in traditional fairytales. Baum's Oz includes elements of this, but so do the New Gods related series from Kirby, or other works  of later creators working in a Kirby mode.

I revisited the Blackstar (1981) cartoon series not too long ago, and it has a great example in the episode "Lightning City of the Clouds." Crios the Ice-King is trying to stop Spring from coming to the Planet Sagar, keeping the planet in eternal winter. He attempts to steal the key to springtime with his fortress that flies on a cloud and appears to be made of ice. That fortress also has a futuristic-appearing control room (draped with icicles) complete with a video screen where he can talk to his boss, Overlord.

It's a setting that makes no attempt separate science fiction and fantasy. We might well call it science fantasy, though that term also covers works that include things clearly defined diegetically as scientific, but are utterly implausible. What I'm interest in here is fantastic technology that is understood within the story as magical or at least implicitly such.

Other examples of magitech, what is more traditional meant by that term, occur when magic is used to replicate something close to modern or science fictional technology. Unlike the naive magitech, it is often part of a rationalized or systemized portrayal of magic, but not necessarily. It's this sort of magitech that can often go wrong because it ends up with obvious cliches (magic carpet taxis, magic wands for guns) or the Rube Goldbergian devices on Flintstones or Gilligan's Island where it becomes a joke based around, "just how are they gonna build this device?"

I find both of these approaches unsatisfying because not only are they often silly (intentionally or unintentionally) but because they make the fantastic mundane. 

I think good magitech ought to aim to do the opposite: make the mundane fantastic.

How does that work? Well, I think magitech should general not be identical to a scientific technical solution to the problem. There ought to be new (and interesting) complications and implications. I'll give a couple of examples: In the comic book series The Outer Darkness, the starship is powered by a captive god who demands sacrifice. This has all sorts of implications for how one might coax more power from the engines or what an engine breakdown looks like. A containment breach becomes a whole different sort of danger.

In my Weird Adventures setting there are radio para-elementals. Their existence suggests something about the physics of the setting, making it more aligned with fantasy, but also brings up interesting complications for radio operation.

There are lots of other examples, but you get the idea. In summary, I guess my pitch is: if you are going to include magitech, think about what it implies about how the world is different from the one we know. That doesn't mean you need a rigorously worked out "magic system." It just means putting though into how technology and the world it exists in are of a piece.

Gameable Fiction Settings

Finding the audiobook of Simon Green's Deathstalker free on Audible until next week, I decided to revisit it. It's a book I read in the 90s, but I've found most of it has stuck with me, and my impression hasn't changed. It's high of action and invention, but above all, it's a really rpg setting-like world. 

Of course, almost any setting is gameable, but some worlds seem have been built with the requirements of game settings in mind: distinct character types with cool abilities, sources of those cool abilities as setting elements, and factions in varying degrees of conflict. The Deathstalker series has all of this and the kitchen sink: noble houses, rebel ESPers, rebel cyberpunks, a sleeping cybernetic army, an inimical AI civilization, and mysterious alien threats. Sources of "power" including intensive training, cyber-and biotech enhancements, weird alien tech, and psionic abilities. And there are swordfights.

All of this reminds me of a gaming setting. It says "play me," I think, more than any rpg tie-in fiction I have read (which isn't a lot, admittedly, but some).

Another series with this quality is Stephen Hunt's Jackelian novels. They are steampunk at base, but also sport robots, feyblooded mutants, biotech, Lovecraftian ancient gods, and a number of post-apocalyptic secrets. I gave them a fuller overview here.

I'm sure there are other such book series out there. Sykes' Graves of Empire series is in that vein, though not as kitchen sink as the above. Certainly, mainstream comic book universes are this and then some. 

The Funhouse Crawl

This past weekend, I visited my mother's family's old hometown of Panama City Beach, Florida. I got a chance to show my kid one of the landmark's I remembered from my childhood, the kitschy miniature golf course known as Goofy Golf. The firebreathing pink dinosaur that once demanded your attention at the roadside is, alas, no longer there, but the sphinx, giant ape, statue of Buddha, Asian dragon, Easter Island head, and assorted more mundane dinosaurs are still in evidence, along with rockets, windmills and the like.

I feel Goofy Golf is good inspiration for a point- or hexcrawl. I don't mean in its specific set-pieces (not necessarily, at least) but in the way it's basically a spread out funhouse dungeon. I like a good, well-thought out setting as much as the next guy, but I also enjoy the kitchen sink weird lost worlds. I'm thinking of things like Ka-Zar's Savage Land or the world beyond the Bermuda Triangle Skull the Slayer gets sucked into. Hollow World has more than a little of this vibe with cavemen, Rip Van Winkle still dwarves, and gaucho orcs, but there isn't as much of this done in gaming as there could be.

Making it a bounded location to be explored like a pocket dimension or lost world frees it to strain seriousness and consistency in a way than might not work in an entire setting. 

[Rifts] Some thoughts on the Coalition

Overall, I think the Coalition is a nice set of bad guys, in the sense that they've got a distinctive look, a lot of scary toys, and a suitably odious and belligerent outlook, ensuring the PCs will come in conflict with them. I think there are a few things I would do differently with them than what I've seen in published material.

Let's start with something really basic: I'm not fond of the despot of the Coalition being "the Emperor." That sounds like the leader of, well, an Empire, not a Coalition. My view of the Coalition is as a military dictatorship that perhaps seized power from an earlier, more collaborative group that called itself the Coalition. Prosek might call himself Director, General, or even President, but I'm inclined to prefer something like Supreme Leader or Supreme Commander.

Good paint job for a Coalition robot

I like the idea that the Coalition is, at least rhetorically, out to restore America. There should be an aspect of palingenesis to it in line with the fascist regimes that inspired it. It does bug me it doesn't drape itself more in American symbols, but I can retcon the Coalition flag to be the U.S. stripes with the skull and lighting bolts instead of stars, maybe. 

We are told that (at least in Chi-Town) the majority of Coalition citizens are illiterate. I assume that doesn't mean complete illiteracy, because the art in the original book with its signs and graffiti suggest a level of basic literacy is present. I assume that, transplanted to our society, the average citizen would be considered functionally illiterate, though within their own culture they are not so impaired. Chi-Town, like other cyberpunkish settings, is to a degree post-literate. What the Coalition educational restrictions take from them is an understanding of the past and a level of abstract reasoning and means communicate those thoughts.

The brings me around to Coalition media. I think there is probably a lot of it, but not much of it worthwhile. It will be blatant propaganda when it isn't just vapid. The pervasive TV of American Flagg! seems good inspiration here. As always, sex will sell. I figure Coalition news magazines/morning show sort of lite journalism programs, would do their hiring of effervescent hosts accordingly.