As I have been working on the setting for my new campaign, I've talked with my players for the first time about how I feel about GM creation vs. player creation of setting material. It's not that it was a secret before, but it never game up in an explicit way. My personal observation is that while most players don't want to be given a lot of homework to play a game, they also don't tend to be told impromptu to imagine things for a world. A framework to inspire their character creation tends to be what most of my players are looking for, though how much they intend to flesh things out varies.
Encouraging this sort of engagement, though, means that the world is a bit out of focus until we get into the playing of it. I can have thought of a lot of things, but a lot of details I have in mind stay flexible on until the players get their hands on them. In the end, the worlds winds up being a collaborative process even if it mostly starts in my mind.
Here's an example. In creating Azurth, I clearly called out that despite a number of animal people in the setting, there were no cat people. Now, the fact that I noted that and didn't mention a whole list of other animal people that would never appeared in Azurth was meant to suggest "something's going on here." And it was.
However, my friend Jim, in creating his bard Kully missed that. Jim did a very flavorful, brief character write-up, nailing the Ozian sort of vibe. The only problem was he mentioned Kully encountering a Cat Man at a pivotal moment.
I could have suggest a change to that detail and in some circumstances, I might have. Here though, because I had already intended something to be going on with that point, I used what Jim came up with. I told him that Kully had had that encounter, which was odd because there aren't supposed to be Cat-folk in Azurth, and so no one believes him. Jim was creating a little mystery in his characters backstory, which wound up tying into a minor mystery of the entire setting. Kully's backstory became setting material supporting a future reveal that at least one player was going to care out.
Not all instances of a player's view of the world and my own having a discrepency turn out so serendipitously, but I think it's worth looking for those opportunities and leaving things just a little fuzzy to facilitate those clarifications.
The prince died young and without an heir, though not at the hands of his siblings but as a result of his sybaritic pursuits. By then, he had inadvertently placed the city on the course it holds to this day, passing through the end of the Age of Magitech, the Demon War, and the darkness that followed, largely unchanged, if not unscathed.
It is true that, despite popular depictions (often popularized by the troubadours and theater troupes of Mayura, itself), a city of its size and importance must have citizenry beyond artists and performers. Of course, there are craftsmen, merchants, beggars, and servants. But how many artisans are only supporting themselves until the quality of their verse is recognized and rewarded? How many moneylenders or soldiers are perhaps actors researching a role?
Mayura is still a monarchy technically, though its ruler is not of the line of Mordrey. Instead, a grand, annual, nonlethal fighting tournament held at the Aristeion colosseum used to select who will serve as the ceremonial ruler for the next year and a day. Competitors are drawn from all over Parsulan, and the event is bolstered by matches and demonstrations by the professional gladiators in the arena's training schools. The Mayura citizenry feel that having such a formidable and dynamic public representative helps deter otherwise bellicose neighbors. They also appreciate the coin brought in by the spectators to the competition.
The work of running Mayura is done by an elected council of citizens interested in that sort of drudgery. The actual ruling in the sense of setting a course for the city's future is currently done by an unelected former dancer, the Lady Petalutha. The paramour of a former four-term King, Petalutha has parleyed her celebrity into a position of real power, and no one sense has been willing to brave public disapproval to make her give it up. By all accounts, however, she is a capable leader, bolstering Mayura military, leading to a quelling of the coastal pirates, and pushing for trade deals that have benefited her city. She is not well liked by the old nobility who control the lands around the city-state, however, who would prefer a more tractable head of state.
The adventure involves "malign entities of pure oblivion" known as the Faceless who are devourers of information and have been drawn to an ancient repository. Not only is this bad for said repository, but it's also bad for the townsfolk of the neighboring of Bec de Corbin ("Raven's Beak") who have their identities and knowledge eaten by the Faceless, turning them (eventually) into Howlers. Complicating matters (if they were already complicated enough) are the Ragshadows, who are subterranean evil, fairy-tale-ish goblin sort of creatures who opportunistically operate alongside the Faceless to steal physical physical valuables.
That's the set up. The adventure is broken into two parts not counting getting the PCs involved: the village and figuring out what's going on, then a crawl through the repository. There's a clock to ensure the situation escalates. The presentation is fairly terse with prose that is informal, generally evocative and occasionally staccato delivery.
It's style and the overall graphic design place it in the tradition of things like Mörk Borg and the sort of NSR/OSR stuff you find on itch. Like those sorts of publications, it values brevity but supplies you with random tables and other necessary tools, and atmosphere, but expects the GM to bring it to life. Beyond aesthetic, this isn't standard, D&D fantasy either, so people looking for that find not find it's weird, horror sort of approach to their taste.
For me, though, Faceless Howl, is the sort of adventure I tend to look for when I don't have any other particular thing in mind. It isn't particularly combat heavy, and its atmosphere and bit of mystery is the sort of thing that intrigues my players. Its brevity would make it easier to reskin to make it fit whatever setting I'm running at the moment.
If that sort of stuff sounds appealing to you, you should check it out. It's available on drivethu.
What is known from the reports of those that enter it is that the forest is a place of unusual magical power. At the very least, it alters a visitor's perception of time and distance. The wood is also said to be the abode of strange spirits, beings inhabiting both biological and mechanical forms.
Faerie woodlands are hardly a rarity in Parsulan, but somehow, the Weird Wood has become infected or entwinned with technomagical devices in addition to its natural, elemental powers. Some point to its relative proximity to the Field of Fallen Colossi and suggest some stray, animate portion of the giant combatants may have made its way to the forest. Others argue that given the sheer number of constructs and amount armament debris found there, moss covered or half-buried, it must be the remnant of an assault by a substantial force. Perhaps in times past someone marched against Abraxad, and this is the result? If that is true, then Abraxad would surely have record of it in its extensive libraries, but those remain closed to outsiders.
Whatever their origins, it is these artifacts that draw the scavengers.
The commonly encountered fae of the forest are mostly harmless and appear as small, crude figures or vaguely animal or insect shapes of metal. They seem to mimic biological life in a rough but analogous way to the manner Meks resemble humans.
The larger, more dangerous entities are harder to describe with certainty. Some appear as beasts with mechanical and biological parts. Others are shifting shapes of churning metal, churning storms of fury and blades.
Mostly discussions about alignment (probably since time immemorial) seem to circle around 3 opens 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.
The broken and desolate terrain isn't natural but instead due to the folly of man. In the Age of the Wizard Kings, attempts to push the then-fertile lands to even higher yields, coupled with sabotage from rival lands led to disruption of local fae elementals and a wounding of the land. The weakening of the polity made the region vulnerable to raids from the humanoid nations to the north serving to further depopulate the old kingdom.
The Demon War might have thoroughly returned the badlands to wilderness and ruin, but a warlord rose to organize disparate tribal groups and led them to re-occupy Kamazot. The armies unearthed ancient magitech weapons and restored them to the repaired fortress walls. The city they rebuilt developed into an autocracy organized along military lines, which persists to this day. Despite its regimented society, Kamazot has always been opened to outsiders who prove their worth. Even humanoids and those of monstrous ancestry are occasionally accepted into their society.
It is rare for rulership succession in the city-state to be passed hereditarily. Instead, the clan generals elect an Imperator. The current ruler, Dornon Gundark, is unusual in that he was a clanless outsider who rose through the ranks due to his battle prowess and canny out-maneuvering of rivals at a time when Kamazot had been weakened by poor leadership. He enjoys both popular support and the loyalty of most of the generals. Those less supportive are kept in line by his command of the Red Hawks, an elite force drawn mostly from those born outside the city and discriminated minorities such as humanoids and Darklings.
Dornon directs his forces to seek out magitech weapons to add to the state's arsenal. He is very fond of cannons, the bigger the better. He pays handsomely for the recovery of weaponry from ancient ruins and dungeons.
His interests in technology extend beyond weaponry, however. Recently a railroad line was completed linking Kamazot with the Northern Parsulan industrial hubs. The line passes a perilous route through humanoid territory, however, and must employ adventurers and mercenaries both the trains and crews effecting repairs. Another line is planned between Kamazot and the port of Ervessos, but interests in the rival states of the Lightbearer Republic and Grancazarel oppose to close and alliance between those regional powers.
At the same time, the Republic seems to be on the rise. Less than two decades ago, it was a sparsely populated backwater, ravaged by the demonic Wild Hunt. The tide turned with the so-called Miracle of the Church of Saint Lampada, wherein Leonhart Urzen, now First Citizen of the Republic, led a band of refugees in repulsing an assault by a demonic host. The cost of victory was the death of Leonhart's adventuring companions and their retainers, a group now celebrated as the Fallen Heroes. Those Heroes are entombed with honor in a crypt beneath the great church, guarded by special Keeper-Priests, for reasons that are doctrinally obscure. They are venerated on All Heroes Day, and the night before their spirits and those of the city's other dead are propitiated with offerings and their forgiveness is sought through rituals led by the priests.
Leonhart guided the formation of the Republic by inviting in neighboring cities and towns, and organized a militia, both protect the land against demonic incursion and to collect magical artifacts that emerge from the shadow cysts and bring them to Morrgna's dungeon vaults for safe keeping. While citizens guard the cities and serve in officer roles, Mercenaries and adventurers compromise most of the forces sent into emergent shadow cysts and patrolling beyond the walls of the cities and towns. Those who die in service are considered to be added to the ranks of the Fallen Heroes laid to rest with the original group beneath the church. Though few would refuse such as an honor, agreement to this burial honor is said to be a stipulation of admittance into the militia's ranks.
One of the interesting things in Hanrahan's portrayal are the saints. These saints are much like "The Gifted" in my Weird Adventures setting and in other posts in that they are people effectively imbued with super-powers by a god. As such, they make good inspiration for an approach to clerics in fantasy rpgs.
Saints differ from your standard cleric of the D&D variety in a few ways. One, they don't seem to cast spells, just manifest divine powers. Two, they aren't necessarily people of high faith, but ones who just happen to be on the same psychic wavelength as the god, making it easier for the god to establish a connection and work through them. Third, the saints, then, aren't the evangelists and expanders of a faith, generally, but it's holy warriors.
I've long felt that having clerical magic-users that are separate and distinct from regular priests and priestly hierarchies worldbuilding-wise, and this remains a really good approach, I think, and I feel like Hanrahan provides a flavorful implementation of it, with an interesting take on the gods, in general.
I think the same basic setup of these stories could be transported to a science fiction setting. Imagine a group of relatively closely spaced, small worlds (to be "realistic" about it, they would likely have been placed there by an Arbitrarily Advanced Civilization). It could be a Dyson Swarm or its remnant like in Reynolds's Revenger series, or it could just something like the Vega System as presented in DC's Omega Men (which could be a kind of modular ringworld, I guess). Why small worlds? Well, I think it better reflects the island or city focus of the source material and makes it easier to place them relatively close together.
Whatever the setup, this system is on the hinterlands of "galactic civilization," a place where outlaws, adventurers, and malcontents would drift to from the more controlled, "safe" worlds. Within the source material, of course, this is the unexamined Western-centric view of South Pacific, but in a science fiction setting this could more genuinely be the case. Similarly, the elements of colonialism and exploitation of native peoples is probably something to avoid (unless one wanted to make that a central conflict of the setting), but like in Vance's Demon Prince series, a lot of unique or eccentric societies may have grown up there as generations of nonconformists fled the core. Perhaps among the ruins of an alien Precursor race, ideas about whom may be part of the eccentricity of some of the societies.
The vibe could be very retro pulp, but you could just as easily do it with inspiration from Cowboy Bebop or with an Alien/Outland aesthetic.
When the gods withdrew from the world it was no particular impediment to organized religion. To the contrary, priests could now make whatever pronouncements or demands they wanted without fear of divine contradiction or rebuke. The populace, worried at what the loss of the gods' favor might portend for the future, were eager for any message than offered hope or a path to the gods' return. In this period, the power of the temples increased, but so did conflict between them and various self-proclaimed prophets and spiritual teachers.
This situation didn't last, thanks to the devastation of the Demon Wars and the invasion by the demons' monstrous allies. Human civilization was devastated, and cities became isolated. The society that had sustained and supported the temples and the priesthoods faltered, and once again faith in the gods was shown to be no protection against calamity.
The priests and temples remain, though, particularly in the major city-states. The gods are real, after all, and no one expects them to return to a world that doesn't honor them or keep their ritual observances. Certain rituals, too, perform an important civic function and rulers rely on their observance to perpetuate their legitimacy.
In the smaller villages and hinterlands, though, the temples and shrines were mostly abandoned, the priests fleeing to the cities or killed in the conflict along with much of the rest of the population. As time passed, and these regions became (somewhat) safer, the common folk returned, but the priests often didn't.
Into this void strode another form of clergy. Those who, without official blessing or ordination, were able to wield a portion of divine power. They roam from village to village performing spiritual important services. They officiate marriages and civic ceremonies and conduct community rituals at festivals. They mediate between villagers and the spirits or the dead and perform exorcisms when necessary. Joining with other adventuring sorts, they also kill monsters threatening the people. These individuals are often called "Shepherds." They are the most common representatives of the absent gods encountered outside of the city-states.
Shepherd is the name used by the Nimble rpg for its "mostly cleric, but some druid concepts" class. It seemed a good as name as any to use here.
I pitched the idea that I have been kicking around to my players after the last session, and they were into it. So into it they have already began thinking about characters, despite the fact we were going to play a module for a month or so while I got prepared! Still though, I'm glad to have the enthusiasm. Everybody seems interested enough in Nimble, too, which is the system we plan to use over 5e.
Anyway, there interest made me go ahead this weekend and get down in writing things I had been kicking around regarding races/ancestries in the game.
Darklings: These will be the Tiefling stand-ins. They are mutants essentially, born to human parents exposed to the tainted mana emanating from the demons' side of the Terminator or from Shadow cysts.
Dwarves: Spontaneously generated from the spilled ichor of a fallen titan. Like your usual Dwarf but given this is a setting with ancient Magitech, they have a inclination for that. In fact, there's a rumor a cabal of dwarves is trying to create a machine god to run the cosmos more efficiently that either the titans or gods did.
Elves: Like your typical elves really, though I think longer lived that the D&D standard. Dark elves (the name has nothing to do with coloration) are likely holdout titan-partisans.
Halflings: Svelter than the D&D standard, mostly like the half-foots (feet?) in Dungeon Meshi in appearance. Like in the 4e "lore," they will be a nomadic people, either in big wagons or barges.
Meks: Mechanicals. They were created as servants and soldiers by the now-fallen Magitech Empire of Alphanion, but have developed more independence over the centuries. They reproduce via Mothernodes, ancient pieces of Magitech sometimes found in Alphanion ruins. They take the place of the Warforged, but broader in conception. The Steam Men of Hunt's Jaekelian novels, Mattie from Sedia's The Alchemy of Stone, and the droids in Star Wars are also influences.
Myrclawr: Cat people of the anime/manga variety. They are also a created species from the Age of the Wizard-Kings.