Making Cultures, Not Races

What Becomes Of Forgotten Knowledge?
'All Seeing' by Hector Mansilla

Culture is weird. 

I find it very hard to quantify cultural beliefs. That may be because it is flat-out impossible to boil down a complex system such as this to its foundational elements, which I don't necessarily believe, but it definitely proves challenging to imitate. The general sectioning of ideas that we call "culture" is so incredibly complex, so full of hypervariation, that even an amateur artist can handle what is effectively a bottomless chest of creativity. That difficulty seems to lie not in the department of numbers but in words. How does one form a culture? How does it come about in a way that is believable and not born from the seams of mockery?

If you do not intend to humiliate a group, 8 times out of 10, it will not be portrayed as such. I think that (far more often than some may believe) it is possible to tell whether a person is genuinely portraying a group as "bad" or "lesser" or if they are merely representing it. I also believe that you can describe a culture unfavourably even if it was not your intention, so definitely something to be aware of.

However, especially in fiction, sometimes the issue coalesces not in the portrayal of already-existent negativity but in the portrayal of culture as more than what it is. Culture is many things; it is representative of an individual's ideals, codifies a multitude of traits or features into identifiable groups, and can even serve as a microscope into more extraordinary truths. Through culture, we can identify ourselves within a community and, in turn, recognize what constitutes ourselves. 

If there is one thing that culture is not, it is race.

A Misunderstanding?

It should be stated that by no means is this a rampant issue. As more and more media has been published in film and literature, this odd contextualization of cultures as one big blob has begun to die down. Nevertheless, its presence is still felt, and some of the greatest works of our time have proven guilty of adjudicating its existence. From time to time, fantasy fiction predicates an idea that species persist off of mono-cultures—the elves and dwarves of Lord of The Rings, the Daleks of Doctor Who, and the many races of The Sword Coast in D&D—which inform their behaviour. All dwarves are trudging midgets with large beards who live deep within the earth, and all elves are ethereally beautiful aristocrats, deeply "attuned" with nature (wood elves) or snobbish of its creations (high elves), who wander the woodlands with longbows. 

This is in and of itself not a bad thing. The problem is when these ideas become assumptions of the norm rather than the individual. What comes to mind when you think of an elf? An orc? A human in fantasy fiction? A walking tree? Once these monoliths of culture become synonymous with the thing they symbolize, it becomes challenging to separate them again. Arnold Kemp over at Goblin Punch has a fantastic analysis of this problem here.  

So what can be done? If this issue holds the key to worse problems, how can we solve it? I don't know, not just because I think it still has some value but because I am looking for another solution. In designing cultures, not races, I wish to develop groups which stand against the grain of preconception. 

Of course, I'm bound to stumble and fall on the way down, and there is undoubtedly a fine line where culture and race intersect, but I see value in developing one separately from the other. Like faith, lore, and ideals, these totems can be set independently of one another, serving complimentary as a result.

Let's run through an example or two.

Art by Jessie Wu

Same Beginning, Same End

Unless you were grown in a vat or removed through cesarean (salutations, my fellow tumour babies), we were all born the same way. All human beings pop out of a womb after a couple of months, and in much the same way, we all eventually return to the earth. In this sense, we are all the same, but it is beyond this beginning and end that our differences arise. Everything from our genetic makeup to our surroundings to our cultural background differentiates us. 

In a group of a hundred people, the chance that two people share a birthday is nearly 100% (some argue that you can get >50% with as few as 23!). Imagine the fact that you share a birthday with somebody may just be the only similarity you have with them? 

Humanity as a species is ridiculously diverse. Ever since our ancestors scattered across the African continent and spread upon the rest of the world like lice, we've changed in nearly every way imaginable. Think of how many kinds of people there are, and not just in the visual sense? We have conquered entire landscapes—volcanos, canyons and island chains—for no reason other than a desire to live there. How much of your life do you think has been manipulated as a result of your living environment? Ever moved to a place that's nothing like where you grew up? Weird, huh? All aspects of our living experience—immigration examples notwithstanding—serve to teach us how to survive in that environment. Our customs, routines, and social norms act as how-to, informing us exactly how anybody stays in this place, especially the dominant majority. 

What would life be like if we all stuck around? What if humanity managed to construct a babel-esque structure, a leaning tower of pisa for communes, and we just evolved there instead? The issue with mono-cultures is that, in and of itself, the problem of settling, you cannot quell dissidents unless you first dispel free thought. An entire species living in a particular, interconnected location is bound to be made of dozens, if not hundreds, of different interacting groups of people. Sure, you can argue that it's unlikely you'll explore many of these groups in a story (or the author will simply focus only on the dominant majority), but there is absolutely value in depth. 

Ignoring questions of interracial and purely racist consequences, although intriguing and potentially significant, think of how a group can evolve only through their environment? In a tower-city surrounded by desert, how do you come about water? Is emphasis placed on the construction of aqueducts or mines? How does the every-man treat it? Is water a resource (at least somewhat) openly shared, for it is considered a necessity to all, or is it tightly regulated and/or hoarded? How do groups get around the tower, and is such transportation common? Are levels segregated?

Some of these questions may seem purely anecdotal, but they fulfill two objectives: to serve and to inform. What may be seen as "normal" to one faction may be reprehensible to another and openly preached by a third. Culture is not some magical background force that symbolizes the penultimate person; it is an evergreen, constantly changing power, which not only evolves with the group who created it but with the individual it seeds.

There's Lots More To Explore. I'll Be Back.
Art by Pieter Bruegel The Elder

 

An Introduction to Magic In Bromeilles

Magic is an open book, capable of being read by anyone. There are no chosen ones, no genetic gatekeepers of the mystic arts, and although those in positions of power would have you believe otherwise, even the lowliest serf is capable of lifting up a wand and disintegrating their oppressor. The problem lies not in the availability of magic, but in the threats that bubble beyond its surface.

All magic, inherently, is a manipulation of the free forces of the world. It is an act of vicious realignment with one's wishes, with varying levels of ferocity. The primal touch of the Druids is considered the kindest by far.

This violent grasping of the universe is incredibly dangerous, as one might expect, and has taken the lives of thousands who believed that they knew better. They did not. This is why The Twelve Laws were put in place, and every Artisanal School on the continent keeps at least one Lolea on hand; executioners, lest a mage falls too far from grace.

The Occult

Artisanal dictum states that all magic is transmutation. It is the shaping of the molecular building blocks of reality, and all the dangers that they provide. Evocation is the transfer of heat and other energies into malleable states. Conjuration is the formation of pseudo-real things, made from 'sleeping' particles, which inevitably awaken and destroy the projection. Illusion is just the manipulation of the shadows of molecules, like puppets strewn by candlelight.

Every school of magic fits somewhere in this mystical cosmology. The school of transmutation itself is no exception.

The Republic adopted magic into their foundation shortly after The Storm Eternal, seeking resolutions to problems which had never been solved before.

Roberto Gatto

Some would tell you that the late Gisele De Roy introduced the Occult to The Republic. This would be a lie. While the philosopher devoted his life to studying the mystic arts, the imps welcomed mankind to this specific breed of magic. They called it a gift: an opportunity for The Republic to construct and rebuild beyond its potential. Several hives killed communication entirely once they realized the horrors mankind had uncovered with it.

Form & Function

All practitioners of the Occult Artform understand the two primary components necessary for casting: Conduits & Catalysts.

Conduits are things in the physical world that act as transmitters of magic into existence, whether objects or creatures. A machine roars, a wand crackles and snaps, and a fingertip glows with light. From these things, the tedious process is finalized and law is transformed into chaos.

Catalysts, by process, serve as fuel to a conduit's commands. The Twelve Laws dictate that matter cannot be created or destroyed, only transmuted into other states. As a result, Artisans must rely on that which encompasses the world itself to create magical effects. This is where most fledgling wizards first learn the harsh consequences of their craft.

Digression: Wizards and other legal practitioners of the Occult in Bromeilles are known as Artisans, and their schools are known as Artforms. They have become a guild of sorts in the social hierarchy of The Republic, and have been granted privileged positions as a result. Artisans are, however, also legally considered a permanent detachment of the military. All who enroll in Artisanal Schools are under strict obligation to the state. Opinions on this policy are mixed.

Anything can be made into a catalyst. Many of the specialized techniques taught at the Artisanal Schools utilize the same components for ease of access. Still, the theoretical limit to what could be used for nearly any spell is close to limitless. Mushrooms wilt and die in one's palms as electricity purrs from their hands. A ball of yarn unravels and pounces at its prey. Teeth shatter in their owner's mouth in a last-ditch effort to survive.

Subschools

All magic refuses to categorize itself by the inherent will of being chaos. It was imps who first began studying the art, but it was Man who pinned hundreds of names and terminologies in an otherwise empty cushion. The concepts of Conjuration, Abjuration, Illusion and Enchantment are mortal concepts, and would otherwise cease to exist in a lifeless world. But it can (and does) appear without intervention in day-to-day life, which only drives Archivists farther down the rabbit hole of madness.

To date, there are thirteen officially recognized Artforms of "significant" occult magic in The Republic; eight of them primary and the other five secondary, along with dozens of smaller, esoteric schools of thought. Many artisans go their entire lives without learning a single technique from half the available forms.

Subschools are subschools not just because of their obtuse rarity and unpredictability, but just how unorthodox they are from the other artforms. It is possible to uncover several overlapping conditions between two primary schools without manipulation. This often leads to only more overlap. The primary artforms are bound together in ways barely comprehensible by the average mind, yet the subschools lie entirely outside this fence. In another world, some of these artforms would be considered primary schools entirely on their own.

A particular artform is often specialized at an Artsininal school, and many Artisans pick other primary schools to serve as their minors. Subschools are almost exclusively learned from a particular location or area of teaching. Hemomancy is almost exclusively taught to Cruorwrought, Ferromancy to witches and hedge knights.

D20x4 Moon Cult Simulator

Wanted to create a quick generator in honour of one of my favourite things in this world: the moon. Lots of it is strange, and even more of it is up to interpretation, but that's the fun of a generator isn't it?

Click the button below to take a look:

 

	D20 Names For The Moon

1. Luna
2. Beryphides
3. Hylin
4. Seraphine
5. Ulynteph
6. Magra-Napu
7. Jaci
8. Io
9. Koray
10. Epheme
11. Ming Yue
12. Lucine
13. Aabria
14. Ba Dwai La
15. The Moon
16. Yuyu
17. Adrigal
18. Le Kon Gao
19. Máni
20. Czykha

D20 Patron Titles For The Moon

1. IOUN
   
2.  Nightstone
3. Dusk Sun
4. Tidebearer
5. Mother
6. The Watcher
7. The Pale Emperor
8. Gwyllion Gaol
9. The Queen of Pigs
10. Protector Of The Erudinean Complex
11. The Shadow
12. The Great Mimicry
13. Mthyl Ngltah Uryifn
14. Craterpox
15. Guardian White
16. The Third Bastion
17. The Eye of God
18. Dyo-Necropolis
19. False One
20. My Love

D20 Domains For The Moon

1. Rain
2. Storms
3. Dreams
4. Trypophilia
5. Protection
6. Gravity
7. Insanity
8. Night
9. Reflections
10. Lovers
11. Darkness
12. Satellites
13. Spheres
14. Navigation
15. Beauty
16. Oceans
17. Holes
18. Mystery
19. Insight
20. Eyes

D20 Things That Look Like The Moon That Aren't The Moon (You Monster)

1. A Lich's Lunar Fortress
2. The Sun's Sibling
3. A Black Hole
4. A Barely Bare Bear's Bum
5. A Large Rabbit
6. An Egg
7. A Giant Lens
8. A Lunar Dockyard
9. A Skull
10. The Protrusions Of A Dimensional Entity
11. A Space Mausoleum
12. An Eye
13. An Atropal
14. A Spell Gone Wrong
15. A Crystal Ball
16. A Grub
17. An Abandoned Ship
18. The Afterlife
19. Another Planet
20. A Space Station

Consent Tools In TTRPG's

 I've been trying to learn to write without really overthinking it. Just letting the words exit my head and out onto the page. It isn't easy, especially now, but what better way to practice it than to talk about accommodation?

It Just Makes Sense

I never grew up in an environment where "consensual content" for TTRPGs was a thing. I didn't really have to learn about it, because my brother and I taught ourselves how to play in the first place. Of course, we had a few friends who showed interest, but that wasn't until well into our adolescent years and only when we showed them the hobby. Out of maybe a dozen people, one stuck around consistently. 

And that's okay! While a shame, it was expected: games like Dungeons & Dragons were still in the weird space between "nerdy" and "cool." Critical Role was still just growing in popularity. Matthew Colville hadn't founded MCDM. Paizo was the king of content. 5e's only published adventure was Phandelver, and even that was puddles compared to the two decades of RPG content before it.

I love DnD, but I didn't grow up on it. The first-ever RPG I self-taught was Pathfinder: First Edition, a game I hold dearly in my heart even now. That also means I grew up surrounded by hot takes on forums and game stores from those kinds of people.

The PvP Game Master. The Murderhobos. The types of players who love scorpions in their coffee and saves vs Death when they go to bed. Y'know, the OSR crowd. 

And I appreciate them! I love grit in my literature and struggle in my gameplay. It's satisfying in a way that can't be believed to struggle and fight for a goal, through thick and thin, only to feel the release at the peak. That catharsis is essential to me, both as a player and a GM. Hell, there's a reason I call it Game-Master and not Dungeon-Master. But that also meant I never really learned about handling content-facing difficulties early. It never came to mind or was shrugged off as "they aren't a fit for this game." That's a valid argument, but perhaps we can put a smidge more effort into it.

Black Cards

I've seen a dozen names for this kind of tool; red cards, X cards, safety tool cards. A million words for the same tool, which serves to provide an indicator for whenever an event in the game is providing some kind of discomfort or irritation. All you have to do is tap the card that's on the table or flash it to your GM, and the game either pauses for a moment or skips along to the next segment. Many people use this to omit references to events of extreme violence, especially those of a sexual nature. They're also good when a particularly notable phobia of a player suddenly comes to the forefront of a scene. I don't currently use these in my own home games (although I ask my players to speak up if a similar situation occurs) because my main game consists of online play. This doesn't mean we couldn't use it; we just don't.

I like black cards. I think they make sense for the purpose they serve. You don't need NPCs to commit horrific moral acts against other NPCs or player characters. And even if you are (and everyone else is, to a degree) okay with it, you still don't have to dangle over it. If the player has to pull out the card at that point, you've probably been on it for too long anyway.

Consent Sheets

This is something I actually have used, and to great effect. A consent sheet is basically an addendum you can make to your session zero (or whenever you want), asking your players to comment on a general list of phobias, controversial topics, or bigotries. Its goal is to effectively gauge what your players are looking for in the upcoming adventure and any issues that may make the playing experience uncomfortable or unwelcome.

I used a sheet like this for my current 5e game. Made by Monte Cook.

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Personally, I used it by first filling out the checklist myself, which I then showed my players to let them know the kind of game I wanted to run. I allowed them to fill out their own copy and send it anonymously. Thankfully, most of our interests align. (Who would have thought that none of us wanted to act out a fully-fledged sex scene?)

Between this and black cards, I really do like consent sheets. I've used them both for in-character and OOC purposes, and it's been an excellent resource for figuring out my player's worries and wants. I do not shy away from extreme topics, and my players are always fully aware of this. This lets me stick to that style when I want to while still avoiding things that would otherwise damage both the game and our actual relationships with one another. 

Does the game you want to play differ significantly from the one your players are comfortable with? That's okay. You can always try another game. Not every style will work for every kind of person, nor will every person be compatible with your preferred type of game.

Just don't be a jerk about it. Don't use a player's feelings or phobias as a way to ostracize them. And for God's sake, don't push content that they state they're uncomfortable with because you think it isn't a big deal.

Talk To Your Players!

You would assume that this would be a given. It should be.

As a Game Master (and in large part a player), it is your duty to discuss topics regarding the game. Nobody should be told they're going to play a "gritty, dark-fantasy horror game" and then show up at a care bear convention. Could it be an exciting misdirection? Yes. Is it kinda funny? Absolutely. But generally, as a rule of thumb, everyone at the table should be aware of precisely what they're getting into. It's why the previous two tools are so essential.

Having a history of depression and suicidal tendencies means you might not like to encounter those things in your games! Being a sexual abuse survivor means you might react negatively to that same activity happening to you while roleplaying! You might be desensitized to it, but that is the exception, not the rule.

It should be said that, while you as the Game Master can put whatever you want into your game, that does not mean your players will recognize it in the same way. You can have a grim-dark, gory, sex-filled extravaganza with not an inch of lightheartedness in sight. Do not assume that anyone will want to be in it. There comes the point where sacrifices must be made, compromises drawn, and that's okay. It's good to work under limitations. 

Talk with your players. Let them know your intentions long before the dice are rolled, and character sheets are filled. Players, speak with your DM! Do not think that just because they need to have your best interests in mind, you can just sit back and let them bend to your every whim!

Role-playing games are a storytelling medium. A cooperative storytelling medium. Nobody gets anything done without talking about it. Did somebody make a mistake? That's okay; you can work it out with them. Is one of your players feeding into an attitude or habit that is harming the table's atmosphere? Talk to them about it. You won't solve everything this way; some things require compromise, and others involve stubborn people. If the player doesn't seem to fit the vibe (or you, as the player, feel disconnected), that's alright. There's always another opportunity.

And for those players who can never seem to find the game that fits them? Try running what you want to play in. We need more of them anyway, and luckily, there are almost certainly people with the same exact problem as you. 

My current play group started with just a singular DM. She doesn't play anymore, but there are four of us now, and some of them thought that they never could.

Don't be afraid to learn.