Tag Archives: generic fantasy RPGs

The Sword of Destiny Cuts Both Ways

Saving this classic blog post from Walter Jon Williams because it needs to be preserved. Fantasy GMs and designers, take note.

Chosen Ones

I’ve had it with Chosen Ones. You know, the people we are told by the wise old wizard or some other Explicator of Plot who “are Chosen to save the world/kill the Dark Lord/become king/bring balance to the Force/whatever.”

Who the hell is it who does the Choosing, here? Lazy writers, that’s who.

Listen up, writers. Two things happen when I’m told that a person is Destined to accomplish something.

First, it removes all suspense. Because the character is Destined, you know the character’s going to succeed. Big yawn.

Second, it just makes me want to yell at the character, “Get on with it, won’t you? Don’t futz around for thirteen episodes, go kill the evil usurper and make yourself king. After all, you’re Chosen. It’s your damned job.”

Writers, if you’re going to give your characters a Destiny, at least give them one that isn’t so straightforward. Something like these:

Your character is Destined to fight a long rear-guard action against evil, until she makes a mistake or gets unlucky, and then she dies. (That would be Buffy the Vampire Slayer.)

Your character is Destined to defeat the enemy, but will then be despised forever because of the means necessary to achieve that victory. (Ender’s Game)

Your character is Chosen to defeat the evil monster, but will die in the attempt; and without his leadership, his kingdom will fall. (Beowulf. Heard of the Geats lately?)

Your character is Chosen to wield the most powerful magic in the universe, but is also Destined to use it to destroy the world. PS, no exceptions. (The Wheel of Time)

Writers, what these examples do is add irony, which is a vital component of successful literature. They also open the story to at least the possibility of tragedy, which you really want. If a tragic ending isn’t possible, and demonstrated to be possible (kill Boromir!), the eucatastrophe or happy ending will have no power.

Give me Destiny if you must, but also give me Doom.

Workshop

Plot hook: the PCs are hired by a wizard to capture and deliver an ever-weirder list of wildlife and magical constructs. Over time, they learn what he’s using all of these critters for. They’re parts sources. The wizard is a fleshcrafter, taking contracts from other wizards or eccentric wealthy nobles to create the hybrid pets and guardians of their dreams.

He calls his business Build-an-Owlbear.

(Alternate title for extra horror if the PCs are being asked to abduct goblinoids: Build-a-Bugbear.)

Ghostwriter

This one will probably show up in a not-D&D game sooner or later.

This is a magic item composed of two parts. The first is a pair of spectacles, or a signet ring, or a brooch, or a tie clasp – something designed to be worn easily and casually. The second is a quill or fountain pen, depending on the game’s milieu.

Words written by the pen are visible only if the reader is wearing the paired item.

Use for spellbooks, conspiratorial correspondence, or your teenage witch’s diary detailing her current warlock crush.

Overclocking Halflings

Random thought from listening to Tale of the Manticore during today’s workout:

In most fantasy settings, humans are the up-and-coming sapient species, the innovators, the shitdisturbers, the ones who move at high speed compared to the elder dwarven and elven species. They’re usually driving advances in science and engineering (unless gnomes, which have somehow become anonymous with neon-hued steampunk annoyance, have taken than role).

I’d like to tinker with using halflings (or the setting-specific equivalent) to fill that role. Rather than being the tubby, bucolic, barefoot, and socially-conservative species, what if they’re the force of dynamism and social upheaval? Keep them as the setting’s foodies and masters of agriculture – but it’s because they have to be. Their brains and metabolisms are overclocked, resulting in higher overall energy levels and greater intelligence but correspondingly greater caloric demands and shorter lifespans. In fact, they may have been the originators of agriculture because, of all the species, they were the ones with the narrowest margin between survival and starvation.

(Famine would feature prominently in their cultural baggage, probably as the greatest collective fear.)

… huh. As I consider this development, these halflings also owe a fair amount to the betas of Shadow Unit. Stealing further from that source, halfling dynamism may be a result of food security rather than the drive that led to it. Halfling metabolism is adapted to varying levels of food availability. In its default state, assuming a pre-industrial, low-magic level of food production, halflings are sedentary because they need to they conserve energy for survival. If they have calories to spare, though, their brains and bodies can and will use that surplus for bursts of intense activity.

Historically, this gave rise to legendary feats and heroes – and perhaps darker stories of what some of those heroes, pressed by desperate circumstances, did to get the extra food they needed to pull off their miracles. Now, in halfling communities that are edging toward industrial agribusiness models of food production, high levels of productivity and intellectual discovery are the norm.