On Being a Referee and a Christian

In my extended absence from writing anything on my blog, I recently got this comment from David B. and it deserves its own post:

Greetings Father. I don't know exactly where to post this but I had question for you regarding the cosmological portion of your universe. I'm running a West Marches game type since last year and, I'll be honest, I stole your three main divinity when I read about them (Frumos, Arta and Tizan). I think it's great.

I'm playing with friends used to D&D and such so it's all good. But I was wondering about the long-term: my wife and I will have children, and I want to use D&D as a game and an educational tool. What would be the thing to do regarding the world and the cosmology of it ?

Pseudo-historical RPG set in Christian kingdom/mpire ? Analogical/allegorical like yours ? Or straight up remote to create a form of mythopoesis like Tolkien ?

Which one do you think has more value ? The goal is not to teach the creed through the game, that I understand very well, but mostly to make sure that the background imagination landscape, so to speak, it cohesive with the whole of education. What do you think ?

Thank you.

First of all, thank you for letting me know that you have implemented one of my various attempts at a metaphorical trinitarian cosmology. Not only do I think it’s awesome, it makes me really happy that it’s being used in actual game play by someone not me. Again, thank you!

To get to your question, let’s compare the Bible, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. All three take different approaches to infusing God and Christianity into their stories. All three tell terrific yarns. All three plant the seeds of Christian values. So the answer really isn’t about which approach works best. Rather, in context of playing an RPG, what is going to be the most fun for you and your players, because fun games get played. The longer a game gets played, the more you and your players get to wrestle with God at the gaming table.

Personally, I find that players like the approach you and I generally use at the table — we use a metaphor for the Trinity and as a stand-in for the Christian Church. This makes the fantasy world approachable. Not only is it familiar (it feels a lot like institutions we already have in the real world), but it is alien enough that we aren’t obligated to engage in a real-world kind of way. Devout Christians can explore characters that make choices they would be reluctant to if we were actually invoking the name of Christ. Secularists and atheists can explore religious characters because they don’t feel obligated to reject Christ and His Church as they do in their own life.

Once players bypass their own real world prejudices, it gives everyone the freedom to explore the moral landscape of human experience with little of the real world consequences. To make this work, you as the Referee need to consistently offer your players the freedom to do what they want, but be firm with the consequences of those choices. The only time I Refereed an actual TPK was when the first level thief decided to try out his Pick Pocket skills and got caught. Then the rest of the party decided to try and fight their way out of the situation. That group of players was a lot more cautious about following the laws while in town after that.

The other thing that makes campaigns like this interesting is offering moral dilemmas — situations that have no right answer. Introduce NPCs like the Operative from Serenity — people who know they are monsters doing monstrous things for the greater good. Which is worse, allowing these NPCs to be monsters or allowing the greater evil they are keeping at bay to have one less obstacle to getting their tentacles into Civilization?

In this way, you allow players to embrace the image and likeness of God and to wrestle with God. Freedom and consequence, when done consistently and well, will go a long way to making your game fun and something people will want to come back to. Moral dilemmas will also not only be fun, but will be chewed on for years to come.

I hope that helps.

Realms of Crawling Chaos

If you hadn't noticed, Dan Proctor announced Saturday evening the early release of Realms of Crawling Chaos (hereafter RCC). Which meant I did something I rarely do — buy something immediately after it comes out. Normally, I read reviews, think about whether I will actually use something and then I might allow myself the purchase. In this case, knowing the work of both Dan and Michael Curtis, knowing that this was going to be a typical modular Goblinoid Games design that would be fully compatible with LL and knowing that it was going to mine one of my favorite fantasy authors (HPL), I felt very comfortable taking the plunge. I was not disappointed.

In a word: brilliant. Regardless of what your own campaign might look like, there are things in here which can be dropped in to make life more interesting for your players. Some highlights for me:

• The new PC races. I love them, especially the White Ape (which fits perfectly into my campaign). Seriously, all of them have already been placed in my campaign world — hopefully in places my players will be exploring soon.
• The Random Artifact tables are awesome. Not only is this right up my alley (I love random tables), it makes magic items dangerous. I also got a real kick out of this aside:

This way, even if the players own a copy of this book, their characters can never be certain what the odd object’s powers and, more importantly, drawbacks are.

• The simple take on Psionics that is completely compatible with Mutant Future.
• A new magic spell category called Formulae which cobbles together magic and alchemy to produce substances and effects.
• Rules on reading eldritch tomes.

What is truly marvelous is how easy all of this is to implement. Besides the races, I have already come up with several ways to immediately use all of the above in my campaign world.

However, one of the things I truly appreciated about this work is the introduction. It brilliantly summarizes HPL's "cosmicism" into six themes that characterize his work. In addition, there are suggestions on how to apply each to any given campaign.

Now, for those of you who have already read RCC and are familiar with my own campaign style with its inclusion of religious themes, you might be wondering why I would appreciate things like The Insignificance of Man, An Uncaring Natural World, and The Reality of Man as an Animal.

The reason is quite simple, actually. Cosmicism, especially as defined in RCC, perfectly expresses what is left when we get rid of God. The abject horror of a world sans God is marvelously expressed in the work of HPL, and in the themes of an RCC campaign. For me, this is a excellent foil for my own themes. It sharpens the realty of our choices and the consequences of these choices.

So, if you haven't already gone out and bought it, I highly recommend RCC.

A Kernel of an Idea

The other day I was reading a prayer which listed a number of things that God has done for us throughout the history of salvation. One of these mentioned was that He shattered the gates of brass. This brought to mind a hymn the Orthodox Church sings during the Vespers of Pascha (Easter):

Today, Hades groaning cries out, “It would have been better for me if I had not received the One born of Mary, for He came upon me and destroyed my power. He shattered the gates of brass and the souls which I held captive of old He resurrected as God.” Glory, O Lord, to Your Cross and Your Resurrection!

This image comes from Psalm 107:16, "For He crushed the gates of brass and shattered the bars of iron.” Read in context, from the perspective of of Christ (justified by verse 20, "He sent His Word and healed them, and delivered them from corruption"), it portrays the lost souls from the beginning of time shackled in Hades freed from their bonds by the crucified Christ.

This got me thinking, since my mind has been on world-building of late, about how to translate this image into a fantasy RPG setting. My initial thoughts would make it an urban campaign, because the image of the shattered gates requires some kind of limited space. The city could be called by several names (all derivatives of Hades or Hell): Adys, Adoon, Uffern, Kolasy. The city lies on a plain in the Land of Nod, where demons freely roam.

Many years ago, a dead man, who was also the Living God was brought to the city and broke down the Brass Gate — the only way out of the city into the Land of Nod. Thousands, if not millions poured out of the gate and few have ever returned.

Those living in the city are lost souls who, out of fear, forgetfulness or coercion choose to remain. The city could contain all the classic urban fantasy tropes including a megadungeon beneath the city that promises vast amounts of wealth to those that dare to delve its depths.

Players would play characters that forget that they are dead and forget who they were and what they did. As they adventure, the Referee could leave clues about who these characters really are. Character death would be relative. Raise dead could be readily available for those willing to pay the price. The underlying goal of the game would be getting through the Gates of Brass. This quest could be accomplished via a classic sandbox campaign where the city itself is the campaign world, or for those willing to do the work, could be as complicated as remembering their real selves (most probably horrible people who have rejected God and his creation whole sale).

I don't know if I'd ever actually produce such a campaign world, but I enjoyed the kernel enough that I thought I'd share.

City States

Although I started playing D&D in the late 70s and have gone through several modules set in Greyhawk, I have never taken part in a campaign which took place within that iconic setting. For whatever reason, the vast majority of the people I have played with over the years have always used home brew settings and do-it-yourself dungeons. I have had a passing interest in Greyhawk, due to its place in the history of our hobby, but never felt comfortable with it.

This week I cracked open a book that explores the economic and political history of towns and cities in Germany during the Middle Ages. What struck me was that as a political entity, these towns and cities became independent city-states due to several factors. Trade allowed the Burghers to become wealthy. In order to ensure stability and continued trade, these Burghers allied with each other to create councils which became the political force behind these city states. They invested in armies, in defenses and in superior technology (canons, guns, etc.). The remarkable part of this story is who they were protecting themselves against: the nobility. There is a story of one city state who was besieged by several princes who banded together to take it over. They failed. The technology and the professionalism of the city state troops proved to be too much. In addition, city states endeavored to acquire territory — a defensive buffer zone between them and the nobility.

For me, this sheds a new light upon the city state as a D&D setting, of which Greyhawk is the archetype. The city is governed by a council of various families and guilds with a variety of interests. Some of them conflict, but all are united in the desire to protect the city (and thus their own interests). In addition, the city invests in "technology" — it houses a school of magic, is tolerant of magical research, and gives wizards a seat on the council. In turn, this collection of magic-users can be called upon in times of trouble. As a result, there will also be a heavy concentration of magical items within the walls of the city.

There is a very competent city militia; however, there will also be a requisite number of adventurers hired on by various members of the council to take on tasks that ensure the survival of the city. One of these tasks is the acquisition of territory — clearing areas of monsters and the building of strongholds in order to maintain this territory.

These efforts will be in opposition to various "princes," whether they are orc tribes, the armies of mad kings, demon led hordes of barbarians, evil monks, or your run-of-the-mill power hungry nobility.

Although this framework does not lend itself as easily to a sandbox kind of game as does the proverbial keep in the borderlands, it does allow for a more political and patron driven campaign.

Having never had the whole Greyhawk experience, I am curious as to how closely this model fits with what was actually played. I know that if I ever were to go about making my own version of Greyhawk, this is the direction I would go. I am, however, more inclined to just apply this model to a campaign entirely of my own design.

Map of Erimia

This is a map of Erimia. I have not named many of the landmarks on purpose. For one, the citizens of Ipolis have no need to name anything, because they very rarely, if ever, venture outside the city walls. Secondly, I really like the process of players interacting with a world. When that creative process comes up with names, the world jumps off the page and begins to live in a way that I never could have made it by naming everything.

I have marked three things on the map, because they are a part of the daily lives of those who live in Ipolis:

Hex 0808: The city of Ipolis (which literally means "the City") is a giant walled metropolis and a haven from the Chaos that rules the wilderness around it. With the powerful magics available to it from the energy node that lies at the center of the city, Ipolis is virtually self-sustaining. It has no trade with other cities — even if it knew of other cities, it has no real need. The only outside contact the citizens have is through the small community of Gate — those soldiers (mostly Replicants) who guard and maintain the small gate of the city and those merchants that sell the soldiers their wares.

Hex 0805: Pyros Mountain (meaning "Fire") looms large in the minds of the citizens of Ipolis. It is called Pyros Mountain because of the mysterious glow it gives off at night, which can be seen for miles. Thought to be the source of many of the strange monsters that occasionally test the defenses of the city, it is at the center of every nightmarish imagining of the people of Ipolis. Indeed, the glow is the result of a fragment of a chaos weapon that fell from the sky during the Great Cataclysm and buried itself deep within the bowels of the earth.

Hex 0705: Here are the ruins of a city that was ancient at the time of the Great Cataclysm. Called Aripia (or "Ruins") it is carved out of the rock of antediluvian river beds and stands between Ipolis and Pyros Mountain. Some of its spires can be seen from the city walls. In the past, adventurous souls have wandered out to see these great carvings. Those that returned told tales of their wonder and hinted at untold wealth that might be buried beneath. When tales are told of the Golden Age before the Great Cataclysm, they often tell of the wonders of this city that now lies in ruin.

Making B2 Green

Recently, I ran across three things that have inspired me to recycle:

1) James C. Boney's wonderfully evocative concept for Advanced Adventures #6
2) Allan T. Grohe Jr's piece on one-way doors and variable stairs in Knockspell #1
3) Philotomy's article on the megadundeon as the mythic underworld

Having encountered these three in quick succession and coming to the realization that I have in my possession more published worlds for D&D than I will ever be able to use in my lifetime, I had a bit of a brainstorm that I'd like to share:

I came up with an interesting twist on the classic dungeon crawl. Take the classic B2 Keep on the Borderlands and re-imagine the Caves of Chaos as a portal to multiple worlds. To start off with, take three or four of your favorite exotic D&D settings that have been collecting dust, because you'll never get around to using them. Maztica, for example. For each setting, populate the Caves of Chaos with setting appropriate monsters.

The characters start off in your standard D&D world, such and the Known Realms. They go off to explore the standard version of the Caves of Chaos. Little do they know that the caverns simultaneously exist in parallel on several worlds. At regular intervals, these parallel versions of the caverns switch places and anyone who is inside the caverns is transported to a different world. Thus, as the party emerges from their first successful foray into the caverns, they find themselves in a completely different world. When they return to the caverns, in hopes of returning home, they might find the caverns occupied by a completely different set of creatures. This can be used for as many worlds as the players have patience for.

Thus, with very little effort, one might be able to actually get some use out of those settings which, while appealing enough to be on the bookshelf, never were going to be used for an extensive campaign. And that one map from B2 can be an unexpected surprise every time a party dares to venture in to try and go home.

Being There

Over on Grognardia, James Maliszewski wrote:

I don't think pre-fab campaign settings need to be impediments to creation through play. Indeed, in some cases, they can be great spurs to creativity. I do think, though, that there's a danger inherent in such settings and that's the false perception that there's a "right" way to play in Tékumel or Greyhawk or Glorantha. Once this pernicious idea takes hold, you close yourself off to many terrific possibilities and contribute to the reduction of roleplaying games to an activity of passive consumption rather than active engagement no different than watching movies or television. This is the reason why analogies with those media tend to raise my hackles. It's not that I think there's anything wrong with wanting one's campaign to be as exciting and "alive" as the best movies or TV shows; it's that I don't think that worthy goal can be achieved by looking to those media as models rather than inspirations for good gaming.

This reminded me of an incident that happened back when I went to a tiny little college that was settled in the middle of a tiny little town of about five thousand people. While I was there, the local community tried to remove the book Being There by Jerzy Kosinski from the shelves of the school library. Amazingly, Kosinski came to town to defend himself, his book, and his understanding of freedom. I was privileged enough to be present when Kosinski made his defense, and his argument not only deeply moved me, but actually affected the way I understand the world.

He made the observation that fiction is the most democratic form of media. I can pick up any work of fiction anytime and anywhere I wish. I can read it at any pace I choose. I am the one who controls how I envision the world described in those pages. In contrast, newspapers determine what content I am to read. Non-fiction limits the pallet by which I can imagine what I am reading, because these are real people, in real places. Photography and painting determine exactly what it is that I am to see. Television and movies are the most autocratic of all. They determine virtually every aspect of the experience — when and where, what I see, what I hear, how I see and how I hear. Once I turn on the TV, push play, or sit down in the movie theater, I have given up control to the media. I attribute my utter refusal to see any movie on opening day weekend and a preference for watching movies and TV shows on the web or on DVD to this argument. By doing so, in some small way, I am taking back some of the control over the experience.

This argument is quite relevant to the world of RPGs and adds a layer of nuance to what James is trying to say. As James has so eloquently pointed out on his blog, RPGs used to list books to read in order to find inspiration. Now they list TV shows and movies. There is a direct correlation to the amount of freedom players have in the way these games are presented and played to these influences. Campaign settings are a unique form of media. They can act as literature or television in terms of their democracy vs. autocracy that Kosinski was speaking about. This relationship is determined entirely by how it is used. We, as gamers, can choose to use it as inspiration in order for us to freely create our own worlds, taking what we like and discarding what we don't. Or we can use them as canons to restrict not only what we ourselves do, but what anyone else can do with the material.

I am not at all surprised that old-school gaming, with its emphasis on creativity, house-rules, player freedom and sandbox campaigns is solidly rooted in literature. I am also not surprised that as TV and movies became increasingly influential on RPGs that campaign worlds became instruments of autocracy and that modern RPGs emphasize plot, story and adventure paths over creativity and player freedom.

I would be remiss if I did not reflect on how this reminds me of our own relationship with the world and sin. As beings made in the image and likeness of God, we are free beings. However, we exist in a fallen world overwhelmed by sin and death. When we ignore God and freely choose a world of sin, we concede control of ourselves to sin, in much the same way we do when we turn on a TV. It has the illusion of true freedom, but in reality we are slaves. However, when we take creation, and use it to bring it and us closer to God, we are taking control of both creation and ourselves. Our creative spirit is set free and we get to taste true freedom. Indeed, this is one the very reasons I write this blog and it is the model by which I play my games.

Erimia Campaign

I have been working on a campaign that satisfies a desire to pay homage to three influences — Pulp Fantasy, Christianity, and the Retro-Clone. I want to share some of my thinking on this campaign, and briefly outline how it interacts with its influences.

Pulp Fantasy

Alternate World: This campaign takes place on an alternate earth that shares the same basic timeline as our own up until the fall of Rome. At this point our paths diverge.

Battle in Space: The Fall of Rome coincides with a battle between two Chaotic factions of inter-galactic/inter-dimensional beings within the solar system. Several ships fall to earth as casualties in the battle.

The Great Cataclysm: During the battle, a device is used in the proximity of earth that causes a violent reaction in its crust and its energy fields. Immense earthquakes, flooding and volcanic activity devastate the planet as the crust shifts almost 90 degrees. Civilization collapses, whole environments change over night, life as we know it is forever changed. An energy field surrounds the world, flowing in constantly changing rivers of energy and pooling in more permanent energy nodes. This energy, when tapped, allows survivors to use what we call magic. The nodes provide beneficial magic, and survivors flock to the few that exist. The rivers are forces of chaos. They sweep across the earth, transforming the natural world and causing all kinds of mutations. The world is now a very dangerous place.

Alien Survivors: The ships that crashed to earth had survivors. Most of their technology is lost, and they are stranded here on earth. So, they make the best of it, and begin burrowing deep within the earth. Sometimes they wait, sometimes they conquer, sometimes they cooperate with each other, sometimes they wage the same war that brought them to earth. They are always alien, and always hate their terrestrial prison. At least one of the factions will be inspired by H.P. Lovecraft. I also love the idea that one of the aliens used to look like this.

Human Survivors: What remains of humanity lives around the few energy nodes that exist. They have built great walled cities to protect themselves from the chaos that reigns in the world outside. However, the journey through the chaos to the energy nodes has left its mark. There have been many mutations, and humanity is much more diverse than it used to be.

We are in the Future: It has taken a couple thousand years to recover from the Great Cataclysm. The technology available is akin to Medieval Europe. This allows for a fantasy setting within a classic pulp fantasy future when compared to our own earth time-line. It also ensures that all of the various elements surrounding the Great Cataclysm are distant memories, the stuff of legend, and ancient.

Christianity

The Geography of Eden: For the land of Eden, the Book of Genesis gives us a basic geography of concentric circles. At the center is the Tree of Life. Around that is a fenced garden. Around that is the plain of Eden. Beyond Eden is the the land of Nod, also known as the Wilderness, where demons live.

Metaphoric Geography: The campaign world is modeled after the concentric circles of Eden. At the center is the energy node, which gives life to those in its proximity. Around the node is the City, a walled metropolis ever watchful for attacks from the outside world. Around the City is a plain, kept open and free by the soldiers of the City to enable a clear view of any invading monsters that crawl out of the Wilderness. This Wilderness, where monsters, demons, and creatures of chaos live, lies beyond the plain.

Monasticism: The name of the campaign, Erimia, is derived from the Greek for wilderness or desert. It is also the origin of the word hermit. In the Christian tradition, the first monastics were hermits who wandered out into the desert in order to combat demons where they lived. To carry the metaphoric geography to the PCs, they become these hermits — they are the first adventurers who seek to confront the monsters where they live.

St. Basil the Great: At the time of the Fall of Rome, the liturgy of St. Basil was commonplace in Eastern Christendom. The Anaphora of St. Basil makes this statement:

Through Him the Holy Spirit was manifested, the spirit of truth the gift of Sonship, the pledge of our future inheritance, the first fruits of eternal blessings, the life giving power, the source of sanctification through whom every rational and spiritual creature is made capable of worshiping You and giving You eternal glorification, for all things are subject to You.

I wish to highlight the words every rational and spiritual creature. This demonstrates that Christianity is easily adaptable to include beings that are non-human into its fold and is immune to destruction in the face of intelligent life from another planet. Thus, as humanity mutates, Christians are the most likely to welcome those who are different. Historically this is demonstrable. When plagues hit major population centers in the ancient world, pagans with the means to do so fled, leaving the poor and sick to die. When the plague ran its course, they returned. In contrast, Christians stayed and nursed the sick no matter the race, color or creed.

Thus, it is the Christians who come out of the Great Cataclysm in the best shape. It is Christianity that forms the foundation upon which the City is built. It is Christianity that has allowed humanity to survive in all its mutated diversity.

Retro-Clones

Mutant Future: This campaign is in many ways inspired by Section 9 of Mutant Future. The controlled gonzo effect of this attempt at making it possible to place Mutant Future characters in the middle of a fantasy setting is very much the tone I want for this campaign. Both Mutant Humans and Replicants will be available as PC classes, and Mutant Future's rules on exposure to radiation can be easily adapted for use with exposure to the chaotic energy rivers of the Wilderness. Additionally, with all of the various mental mutations available, Mutant Future makes it easy to create Psionic special effects without having to come up with or use a Psionic system.

Labyrinth Lord: Although I prefer the simplicity of Swords & Wizardry, which invites the use of house rules, for this campaign I will use the Labyrinth Lord rule-set. Mutant Future was built upon these rules. Thus, using large chunks of Mutant Future material will require little or no conversion.

Sandbox: This campaign is designed very specifically to be a classic hex and dungeon crawl. The Wilderness is vast and ready to explore. Housed within the Wilderness are dungeons — ruins from past civilizations, abandoned outposts of alien survivors, and dwelling places of things dark and evil. In order that the metaphor of monasticism and Eden be consistent, the City must remain a safe haven without conflict or adventure possibilities. There are no politics to be had, no plots to uncover, no puppet master pulling strings. The adventure is always out in the Wilderness. The adventurer is always fighting the monsters where they live.

Expedition to the Barrier Peaks: This is one pf my favorite modules of all time. The way this module blends genres is exactly the pulp feel I want for this campaign. The retro-clone movement allows me to ask the question, what if this kind of adventure was more popular or common in the D&D universe? Though not representative of every dungeon that lies in the wilderness beyond the City, there will be more than one opportunity to encounter the remnants of the space battle that created this age.