Tuesday, 25 April 2017

The Elven Lifecycle

Elves are functionally immortal. That is: if they don't get shanked by a rusty goblin knife, burned by dragonfire, torn limb from limb by a troll or meet some other sticky end, they have the capacity to live more or less indefinitely (at least until the world itself turns to cinder).

Like the natural world to which they are intrinsically linked through their fey blood, elves go through cycles of death and rebirth. An eleven life is not a straight line from birth to death, but rather a cyclical process, mirroring the seasons.

First of all, there are no elf children. Fey cannot give birth and thus stole human babies (replacing them with changelings) to increase or sustain their numbers. This was purely for show: although granted longevity and fey aspects, the stolen humans still grew, aged and died. They were good for parties and filling the seats at midsummer feasts, but they faded. So eventually the elves stopped taking them. Instead they contrived spells and charms to copulate with humans. That kinda backfired, too. Half-elves became as estranged children, still mortal and incapable of fitting in elven society. Sooner or later they all left for human lands, though they found them less welcoming than they hoped.

The absolute number of elves is inevitably falling and some say that when the last elf gives up their last breath, so will the last tree, the last flower, the last briar bush at the end of the green. Elves know this, but they also know there's no stopping it.

Since there are no elf babies, the "beginning" of an elf's life can be arbitrarily said to be their spring phase. Spring Elves craw out of their cocoons fully formed, with peachy pink flesh and dewy hair. Having been revitalised and freed from the darkness of their previous cycle they tend to be cheery and spry. Like children with no concept of death they are still drunk on their renewal, fully confident in their immortality, foolish and prone to take risks. Other elves regard them with some measure of contempt and a sliver of worry (perhaps bordering on fear), knowing that a Spring Elf is the greatest threat to both themselves and their species.

About a human lifetime later, the peachy skin grows darker and tanned, their hair stiffer and radiant like burnished gold, radiant and oppressive as the midday sun. Summer Elves are more parochial and conservative, their physical change makes them aware of the passing of time and the dual nature of their immortality. They become haughty and tyrannical in their ways, pursuing more elaborate and Machiavellian ambitions. This is the phase of their life when they make plans for hundreds of years down the road, when they seek to imprint themselves on the world at the height of their power, when they seek to rule the passing world and make it stand in awe at their glory.

Then another lifetime later, their hair begins to grow auburn or red, their skin pales to a parchment yellow. Autumn Elves begin to feel their power wane and while they may still lash out and fight with the relentlessness of autumn rain, they begin to withdraw and pursue more melancholy goals. This is the time when the greatest elven art is produced, when they spend decades on a single stanza of a single poem, secluded away in some thorny court or wandering the forests composing symphonies of a thousand birdsongs. They leave behind their plans to shape the world for another lifetime and instead begin to observe it, mourn it, and embellish it in little ways.

As the last phase comes to a close, their hair loses its colour becoming first silvery and then white, while their skin pales to a maggoty white. Winter Elves are cruel and bitter, with the temperament of a petulant child or resentful old man. They withdraw further into themselves, capable of little but hatred for other people (including their kin), a revulsion grown from the fears and insecurities of their own degrading state. As their bodies turn frail and gaunt, so do their minds lose their edge. The further they slip the more deranged and spiteful they become, reacting to the outside world like a hissing night creature caught in the lamplight. During the very last months of their winter, they begin to involuntarily secrete a milky sap. At which point they crawl up in some dark hole tearing up their old diaries and poems, spellbooks and love letters (or dry leaves and their own clothes, if paper is unavailable), mixing the paper with the sap and building a cocoon.

While Spring Elves are the most danger-prone, Winter Elves in their cocooning phase are both at their most dangerous and at their most vulnerable. Some of their kin might attempt to guard them, if they know where they holed up, but it's wise to keep your distance. Some mortals foolish enough have been known to attempt to "liberate" a powerful elf's spellbook before it was torn to bits by its owner. They did not count on the boundless spiteful savagery of a decrepit fae.

Once cocooned, it takes a few days for the elf to dissolve into opalescent goop, which then congeals and forms a new Spring Elf. These retain most of their memories and personalities, but they are invariably changed to some degree from their previous incarnation, and often lose a a significant part of their self in the final weeks of their madness.

The entire cycle lasts somewhere between 240 and 480 years, depending on various circumstances. If you wanna play a seasonal elf, pick your incarnation's current season or roll 4d100, with each season lasting a 100 years. The ageing process is slow enough that it probably won't enter play, but there are many spells and curses that advance ageing, as does spending time outside the elflands or being subject to harm. If you're an elf that lives the adventuring life, add 1d10 years to your age every time you drop below half your HP or reach 0 HP.

There's no mechanical distinction between the various phases, although I might write them up at some point.

Monday, 27 March 2017

Towards new horizons

I've been on a prolonged hiatus for the last couple of years, shuffling things around, dealing with stuff. Now I want to start making games again, and the first step was creating a Patreon.

You can check it out here.

There will be more stuff in the coming weeks, but for now I'll just keep it at that.

Cheers!

Friday, 10 March 2017

Comparative literature and philosophy club I

+John Aegard made a post here which is a topic I like a lot so I started to write a reply but because my brain is stupid and works in unmanageable fractal patterns the reply started growing well beyond what I felt comfortable posting on G+, so I barfed it up here. No editing was done. You can see Part I in John's thread linked above, Part II was written later and posted only here. There's no formal reason why it's split in parts other than it was written in parts due to time constraints.

Part I The meme of rural vs. urban animosity is ancient. You've got Greek and Roman authors talking about how terrible and immoral the crowds of the city are and contrast it with solitude of the idyllic countryside. When ancient ideals and aesthetics are revived during the renaissance and classicism

But it's a shifting and complicated dynamic. By the time the Roman empire is falling Christianity is holding onto the vestiges of a complicated governmental machine, but unable to exert influence outside urbanised centres. The invading barbaric tribes don't hold any romantic appeal, the "noble barbarian" of Conan is a much later invention. Thus also the word pagan from the latin paganus (rustic, unlearned), suggesting that if you wanted to find a dark snake-worshiping cult you'd have to look in the rural areas and not among the city folk.


This dynamic largely persist through the middle ages: witches and heretics are on the fringes, in the forests and remote villagers. The idea of isolation remains however, so you have some monastic orders or hermits retreating away from civilisation. The meaning of "sacred" is closely linked to "set apart".


It is unsurprisingly after the renaissance and then the enlightenment that the dynamic starts to shift again. Bucolic landscapes become popular in art, cities are growing and are becoming a symbol of decadence and debauchery again. Education and the printing press mean people in cities are less likely to be deeply religious, so the Church starts losing influence there and instead digs in deep in the rural areas.



Now it's no secret Tolkien was a deeply conservative author and a catholic, so he (consciously or not) mirrored this dynamic to a degree, but like +Jason Lutes points out, he doesn't drag down Minas Tirith into the mud either. He was a medievalist, so he also understood the glory of the "point of light" city in a fallen, barbaric world. This has been a template for a lot of fantasy fiction since then, but it's by no means the only model. Criticism of Moorcock aside, his essay Epic Pooh, in which he chastises Tolkien precisely for this conservative, reactionary vision is important reading in this context: http://www.revolutionsf.com/article.php?id=953



Part II

China Mieville got a lot of inspiration from that Epic Pooh piece, and since he doesn't hide his marxist convictions he set out to write fantasy that was supposed to do the exact opposite of Tolkien. So in Tolkien you've got this image of Saruman's chimneys puffing smoke over the Shire as an allegory (Tolkien staunchly denied that his stuff should be read allegorically if I recall) of: "modernisation and industry bad, pastoral green englishness proper and good". It evokes how modern day English nationalists have taken Blake's "Englands mountains green" as a sort of unofficial hymn. But then in Mieville you've got New Crobuzon and the reMade and it's basically an allegory about how the powerful use industry as a dehumanizing tool (among other things) and...is it really that different? For all the fuss Moorcock made about Tolkien's conservative idolatry of the pastoral rolling hills of the Shire, shifting the focus to write explicitly urban fantasy ends you with a lot of the same themes.

If Tolkien got his favourable descriptions of the pastoral Shire from his conservative catholic leanings (but again note that he doesn't really depict cities as evil, there's more of a melancholy resignation about losing the pristine countryside to modernity), I think Howard's similar overtones were more or less incidental. Howard was a body-builder and I think he was writing more under the influence of the ancients (Hyperborea is much more iron/bronze age than the middle ages) and the ancient moto "mens sana in corpore sano" (But that's just my guess).

And here we get back to the enlightenment and the idea of the "noble savage". It is a phrase often associated with Rousseau but comes from Dryden and is an old liberal idea that humans are innately moral and good (like in Eden) and become corrupted only through the mores of civilisation. This idea was formulated in opposition to Hobbes' "war of all against all" where the natural state is war and it is only civilisation & laws that create order and stop us from killing each other. The whole thing became a question of nature vs. culture and was never resolved, because it was predicated on the wrong assumptions. Up until the 19th century when Hölderlin was writing angsty stuff about how he wants to live in harmony with nature like the ancient Greeks (which he says were _so great_ precisely because of their "naturalness"), but seems unable to, obviously missing the point that any "harmony with nature" has never been possible in the first place. And then came Nietzsche (who also idolised the ancient Greeks) and said: "Yo, all this stuff, Christianity, enlightenment, this has all been _metaphysics_. We've been set on the wrong path by Plato who created an abstract notion of truth as existing above and beyond (meta) nature (physis). Thus man was turned away from the world he inhabits and began to curse and reject it as a fallen existence and retreating into an ossified and lifeless fortress of the spirit."

And this is the dynamic that Howard picks up (intentionally or not I do not know but probably someone has written about it somewhere) and it becomes a trope of a lot of sword & sorcery fiction. Conan's killing n' fucking is a nietzschean, Dionysian affirmation of life as opposed to the metaphysical negation of the religious, the mystic, the philosopher, the sorcerer. The way Thulsa Doom uses flesh is not "natural", he merely exploits the baser instincts of his followers, not for their own sake (like Conan does when he revels in drink, food, lovemaking or murdering), but to draw and display (sorcerous) power. So there is a long an complicated (I wouldn't dare to reduce it to just a simple binary) dynamic between the idea of the edenic-natural-body and the fallen-spiritual-mind and because of the misguided idea of an opposition between nature and culture it largely maps over to rural-urban. These ideas are persistent and ancient and show up in fiction and art in various ways, but the way the individual topos is presented depends a lot on whether your idea of Man's natural state is more Rousseau or more Hobbes.

Now, jumping back to politics, I come from a ex-socialist country and the rural-urban divide is starkly felt during election time, it's a polarization that has long existed. The cities skew left/liberal during election time and the rural areas skew right/conservative, especially in favour of a party that builds a lot of its rhetoric explicitly around anti-communism (we don't have a communist party). I'm no expert on US politics but it seems clear that this polarisation has intensified there in the last decade (even though it was probably present for a long time). Here the division makes sense as the rural areas suffered the brunt of the post-WW2 revolutionary violence, and as mentioned above, the church was more entrenched in the countryside ever since the enlightenment, and the church has a long standing conflict with atheist communism. The US doesn't have that dynamic but through other accidents of history the political alliances forming over the western democracies are largely oriented along the same axis.

Don't make the mistake of thinking that communism is anti-rural in this perspective though. There's the obvious hate of bourgeois culture as well as the the purges of intellectuals in various communist regimes. In Latin America various socialist movements and revolutions were much more concerned with land ownership and agrarian reforms and Lenin took land from the gentry to distribute it to the peasantry. So communism as an ideology doesn't really seem to follow this divide, it's more a matter of local customs and conditions that dictate who is going to suffer more.

Conversely Nazism is much more black and white. From nazi laws regarding the humane treatment of animals and the naturalist images of Riefenstahl's Olympia (nudism is still a strong movement in Germany today) to the concept of “blood and soil”, the nazis were quite overtly creating a romanticized and bucolic image of nature and noble rural living in harmony with the earth. This was contrasted with the fallen, decadent “high culture” of modern art etc. which was all attributed to a jewish conspiracy to destroy nations (and create a global dominion etc.). I do not with to retread the ugliness of it, but consider the pathological nazi descriptions of jews and contrast it to the dynamic described above and you could see why an excessive worship of the past mixed with romantic notions or depictions of nature and/or rural life can start to set off all kinds of alarms.

A lot of this is predicated on a false dichotomy since humans can't really be considered to have a culture distinct from their nature, having a culture is our nature. So it's about a conflict of cultures and these don't really have anything to do with their geographical location either (as mentioned in the beginning, once upon a time it was the rural areas that were pagan and the cities Christian and Christianity is prominent in many of the fast-growing cities of the so called third world). So these conflicts are historically contingent and not insurmountable. The fact however remains that polarisation between the rural and urban areas in the west is increasing and it's increasing along uncomfortable lines tied to dark ideas of the past.

Thursday, 23 July 2015

Pale Indifference

The Pale Indifference cares for nothing, it has no hiearchy of needs or objects of desire. If left to its own devices it will lounge in eternal darkness beneath the earth, its heart as void as the farthest reaches between the stars. It will only move with annoyance and resentment when the funerary quiet of its existence is disturbed by light & sound. In those cases it wishes for nothing but to quell the sources of such terrible frustrations.

The Pale Indifference walks on silent feet, using its queerly elongated arms to help its slender body glide graciously through the cavernous dark. Gravity is of no concern to it. Its skin is white and cool like polished marble. When inert, it gives off as much sense of life and agency as a skeleton on exhibit in a medical cabinet.

When awakened its globular eyes glow with a sickly yellow light, like candlelight through a pustulent boil. It does not see in the traditional sense of the word, but rather feels the world around it by casting its ocular beacon upon worldly objects. Consequently it is effectively blind in bright light and its sight is muddled in dim light - it only sees well in the deepest dark. It hates sources of light such as torches and lanterns (which appear as blinding blurs to it) and will lash out at them with the utmost negligence.

The Pale Indifference has no mouth and makes no sound but for the click-clicking of its bird-like talons as it moves through tunnels and caverns, its limbs moving with the confidence of a climbing monkey and the fragile elegance of Pholcidae.

The Pale Indifference defecates, but since it does not eat, its excrement is of a liminal nature, existing more in the metaphysical realm than the natural.  It clings to the floors of caverns like wispy, ethereal guano and gives off no odors. The alchemists of Oyanda believe its residue may be used to produce a powder that relieves the user of their mortal cares for a vague period of time, prolonging life and removing trivial concerns such as food. The side effects might include lingering ennui and prolonged periods of torpor.



Make up your own damn stats for your own damn game.

Saturday, 11 October 2014

Couple more AW probability graphs

The following depicts the probabilities of individual results after you've expanded a move in AW and unlocked the 12+ results.

And this one is a simple representation of probabilities of rolling just a basic "hit" (any result of 7 or more), versus a "miss" (any result of 6 or less).