Meditating on Warhammer 40K

Conrad Klinch of Joy and Forgetfulness asked the following question of me:

One of the most popular wargames, Warhammer 40K, makes heavy use of Christian imagery, but warps it rather spectacularly. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Let me preface my answer with a bit of personal background. I had largely stopped playing RPGs in the late 80s and thus most of my gaming budget (both temporal and monetary) was spent playing miniature wargames. In the early 90s I did play quite a lot within the 40K universe (particularly the 2nd Edition of the Spacemarine Epic ruleset). So, I have more than a passing familiarity with the universe; however, I stopped paying attention to GW products around fifteen years ago because I got sick and tired of the constant rule changes, the ever more expensive rule sets and the pricing of figures based on game ability rather than the amount of metal. Thus, if there has been any major changes in the mythology of the universe since then, I am unaware.

Secondarily, I would also say this about symbology: there is very little in Christianity that doesn’t originate in other cultures. One of the central feasts of the Orthodox Church in summer is the Transfiguration — when Jesus shows his divinity to Peter, James and John on Mt. Tabor. The important part of this event is that this happened through Christ’s humanity. This demonstrates that created matter (our humanity in this case) can be transformed through divine grace. One of the primary purposes of the Orthodox Church is facilitating this transformation, not just in ourselves but the very culture that surrounds us. Thus, pagan symbols and celebrations have been “baptized” and transformed into Christian symbols and holidays.

A classic example is the Cross. In pagan Roman culture, it was a symbol of Roman power and the violent and awful death that awaited anyone who dared defy that power. Through Christ, this symbol has been transformed from an instrument of torture and oppression into a symbol of resurrection, salvation and eternal life.

Thus, one is likely to find Christian symbols within other contexts and cultures used in radically different ways. So, that the 40K universe has symbology similar to Christianity, but has a cosmology that is radically different is no real surprise. For my part, I would view it as my role to transform this symbology and the culture around it into its proper form — Christianity.

Thematically, the 40K universe is not much different than any number of human empires that had at their core a cult of personality. The Roman Empire, for example, had an emperor cult in much the same way that 40K does. Indeed, this cult of personality is a reason that there are fascistic and socialist overtones in the way the 40K universe is depicted.

If I were ever to play within the 40K universe again, it would likely be via Rogue Trader, which would allow me to introduce players to the underground Christian Church which has survived (through the grace of the Holy Spirit) alive and well into the 41st millenium. I would couple this with the revelation that the Emperor is one of the primary sources of Chaos in the universe (it helps consolidate his power by giving him an excuse to “protect” so many worlds with his iron fist and constant sweeps of his Inquisitors). Thus, players would be afforded an opportunity to take the symbols of the 40K universe and transform them — give them meaning by restoring them to their proper orientation towards God.

Saintly Saturday on a Monday: Holy Cross

The first cold brought home from school by the kids is always tough (being sick while also being a primary caregiver is never easy), but this year it kicked my butt. I was in bed most of the weekend with a splitting sinus headache, barely able to see straight, let alone write anything coherent. Therefore, this week I'm having Saintly Saturday on a Monday.

In the Orthodox Church, September 14 is major feast called the Elevation of the Holy Cross. This celebration lasts a whole week. This past Saturday and Sunday are officially called the Saturday and Sunday after the Holy Cross.

About the year A.D. 325, St. Helen (mother of the first Christian Emperor St. Constantine) went to the holy land and did a bunch of groundwork to figure out where various events recorded in the Gospel actually happened. She discovered that the Emperor Hadrian had erected a pagan temple over Golgotha. She had the temple razed and beneath discovered three crosses. She was convinced that one must be the True Cross, but was at a loss as to which one it might be.

At the urging of St. Macarius, the bishop of Jerusalem, a woman who was deathly ill was brought to touch the three crosses. As soon as she came near the True Cross she was completely healed. Therefore, Marcarius lifted up the True Cross in the church for all to see as they all cried out "Lord have mercy!" This event is commemorated every year at this time.

One of the things I never tire of emphasizing is the irony of the Cross. It has gone from being seen as an instrument of one of the most heinous, tortuous, humiliating and awful ways to die to having this said about it:

Let us venerate the holy resurrection of Christ. For behold, through the cross joy has come to all the world. Blessing the Lord always, let us praise His resurrection. For enduring the cross for us, He destroyed death by death.

This is one of the reasons I have never given much credence to conventional wisdom, because it (as St. Paul implies) sees the Cross as foolishness. It is also one of the reasons that I get such a kick out of the OSR. It tends to turn gaming conventional wisdom on its ear.

For example, newer is not always better — otherwise why would so many of us get such a kick out of playing with rules from circa 1974-1981 (whether in their original form or an emulation) and largely turn our back upon the latest and supposedly greatest version of our favorite FRPG?

The OSR is chuck full of things like this. JB over at B/X Blackrazor recently reminded us that the simple d6-per-side initiative is not only easier to run, but it speeds up combat and can make the game more fun to play. For myself, I am a firm believer that the "limitations" of rolling on random tables or of rolling character stats in order are actually liberating because they allow us to think outside the box and therefore be more creative than living with no limitations at all.

This, of course, is not to say that the OSR is never wrong, that older is always better, that you can never have any fun playing with individual initiative or that it is impossible to be creative with a point-buy character creation system. All I am saying is that (like me this weekend) conventional wisdom needs a good kick in the butt every now then and the OSR is very good at doing that.

Remember

O God of spirits and of all flesh, You have trampled upon death and have abolished the power of the devil, giving life to Your world. Give rest to the souls of Your departed servants in a place of light, in a place of green pastures, in a place of refreshment, where there is no pain, no sorrow, and no suffering. As a good and loving God, forgive every sin they have committed in thought, word or deed, for there is no one who lives and does not sin. You alone are without sin. Your righteousness is an everlasting righteousness, and Your word is truth.

World Building Part 7

The God Man

That which was not assumed is not healed; but that which is united to God is saved — St. Gregory the Theologian (also known as Gregory of Nazianzus)

This beautifully succinct statement by St. Gregory sums up the dogmatic necessity for understanding Christ to be both God and Man. If He is not God, then we have no means to be healed. If He is not Man, then we have not been healed.

Thus, in a fantasy setting, the Christ figure must emulate perfect divinity and perfect humanity. This means that He cannot become a God either through His excellence or by God descending upon Him. This scenario does not assume the totality of human nature — it ignores conception, growth in the womb and childhood. Therefore, all of these things would be left out of Christ's salvific activity. All of our experience and existence must be assumed in order to save it. This includes death.

The Cross

Psalm 22, written some 300 years prior to the invention of crucifixion, describes in detail Christ on the cross. Christ tells His disciples multiple times that He must be turned over to the Gentiles to be killed. In iconography, the Nativity depicts the manger as a deep, dark cave; His bed as a tomb; and His swaddling clothes as a burial garment. In other words, the whole point of the Incarnation is the crucifixion — the Christ must die in order to destroy death.

In terms of a fantasy world, we must understand the metaphor of the cross:

The message of the cross is folly to those who are on the way to ruin, but for those of us on the road to salvation it is the power of God. — 1 Corinthians 1:18

Crucifixion is a heinous means of killing someone. It is designed to torture and kill slowly over several days. The amount of stress it puts on the body is extreme and it takes advantage of our own instinctual desire to survive in order to prolong agony. It was a death sentence reserved for the lowest of the low — outsiders and criminals. The Romans wouldn't dream of subjecting a Roman citizen to such a death because it was too horrible and too humiliating even for someone who betrayed the Empire.

God, in the person of Jesus Christ, was not only willing to subject Himself to such humiliation and horror, but transformed the instrument of death and torture into a symbol of everlasting life.

Thus, the cross need not be a cross in terms of a fantasy world. In fact, I would argue that we have lost the sense of divine irony that is the cross — we no longer see it as a device of extreme torture — and that using another device would actually more effectively communicate the true meaning of the cross. The holy symbol of those who follow the Christ is the instrument of torture used to kill the Christ. For example, in the Chronicles of Narnia, Aslan is shaved, tied down upon a rock and killed by a knife. The holy symbol could be any combination of these instruments — the knife, the rock, or the ropes.

Of course the ultimate purpose of the crucifixion is the resurrection, the ascension into heaven and the enthronement at the right hand of the Father. Our human nature, in the person of Jesus Christ, is participating in the divine nature of God right now.

In terms of a fantasy world, this is the mechanism by which divine magic works. Clerics join themselves to the Body of Christ — the Church — and through their ordination have direct access to the power of God. Divine magic is a metaphor for the miracles of God worked through the people of God. The pseudo-Christian overtones of Cleric spells in 0e represent this quite well. It is all made possible because the Christ died and then took our humanity with Him to sit in glory and the right hand of the Father — in our humanity, we have access to His divinity.