Setting Idea - Humans as the Outsiders

In most Tolkienesque fantasy settings, each race has its own niche. To the dwarves, the mountains. To the elves, the forests. To the orcs, the wastelands, and so forth. Each race also has its own distinct culture, its own archetype.

Except for humans, who are sort of all over the place. If they have their own Thing, it might be Drive and Ambition, or even Diversity - but mostly they are a multitude of cultures (often pastiches of real world societies) instead of being truly distinct like the other races.

But let's try something different for once.

How about this: The world is divided between the different races, with each race having its own territories and several non-contiguous nations encompassing those territories. All races, that is, except for humans, who don't have any real nations of their own. Instead they are barely tolerated by the other races, and most humans spend their lives as wanderers and nomads, similar to the Sinti and Roma of Europe, modern-day migrant workers and similar groups. In some nations, there are cities with large "human quarters". There might even be a few human-dominant "free cities" that came into being thanks to treaties with their neighbors, and whose continued existence depends on good relations with the surrounding lands.

But while most nonhuman races don't care much for humans, they care for the other races even less. Humans have no lands, no armies, and are thus no threat - but they can go where others can't, and thus are useful as merchants and spies. While many humans are poor and only own what they can carry, there are also large extended families and dynasties which have become rich on trade, information, and diplomacy. They might not own much in the way of land, but their coin buys plenty of influence nonetheless.

The premise of the campaign is that the PCs are all humans, or their half-human relatives (half-elves, half-orcs, etc.). Each adventure they travel to a new region dominated by another race, with its own distinct culture and quirks that they had better not run afoul of. They can attempt to get rich by trade with means fair or foul, stealing whatever they can get hold of (and hope they are in a neighboring land before their crime is discovered), or get involved in the intrigues between humans and nonhumans alike.

Your thoughts?

[Skyrim] Black Horse Dispatches 03 - The Road to Whiterun

Continued from Dispatch 02 - Saved by the Dragon.

Apparently the dragon had just finished with Helgen - as we emerged from the cave, we saw it flying north, past some ruins on a distant mountaintop. Hedvar suggested not sticking around in case it came back, and I agreed - I had had enough brushes with death for the day.

We journeyed down to Riverwood, a nearby town where an uncle of his lived. On the way, he gave the basic recruiting pitch for the Imperial Legions (no thanks, I already have a job, although being a soldier in a warzone might be marginally safer than my current occupation, random dragon attacks excepted). He also expressed his conviction that the dragon had somehow been summoned or controlled by the Stormcloaks, which was contradicted by the surprise evident among the group that had fled to the tower - unless Ulfric Stormcloak is the best card player in all of Tamriel, and he never struck me as overtly subtle.

Oh boy. The rumors are going to fly fast and furious over this, aren't they. Why not blame the Thalmor - after all, they were also present? Or the Forsworn, trying to take the world that humiliated them with them? Or the Mythic Dawn? Or the reborn Tribunal Temple, with Sotha Sil already plotting to build an army of clockwork dragons?

Facts. I need facts.

If Hadvar ever retires from the Legion, he might find a job as a tour guide. The journey might be short, but that doesn't prevent him from pointing out the local highlights - such as the aforementioned ruins ("Bleak Falls Barrow. When I was a boy, that place always used to give me nightmares.") and a trio of so-called "Guardian Stones" (out of a set of 13 scattered across Skyrim, apparently). Rather randomly, I touch the "Mage" (as Hadvar disapprovingly informs me - I suspect that like most Nords he prefers the "Warrior") and a column of blue light shoots out of the stone and into the sky. But Hadvar doesn't comment further on that, so maybe this kind of thing happens all the time around here. We live in a mythological age, after all, what with dragons and whatnot.

We talk about the charges against me, and he says that in his view I've already earned a full pardon, but that we should get checked by Tullius instead. Well... while I am sure he prefers to go through his chain of command (and might still be naive enough to trust his chain of command), there are other people I need to check this with first. After all, the Black Horse Courier is funded by the Elder Council itself, and some of the Council are rather sentimental about our paper - and do not appreciate attacks on its staff. I need something to write and find a trustworthy courier...

Another one of Skyrim's "attractions" we encounter on the way are the local wolves. I remember them being bold, but not bold enough to attack travelers in the middle of summer. Fortunately, there are only two of them, and they are quickly dispatched.

We met up with his uncle Alvor, the local blacksmith, but Hadvar insisted on talking about recent events inside - presumably to avoid causing a panic, though it was probably too late for hat. Already an old crone shouted how she had seen a dragon flying around. Her son didn't believe her, but if the sightings continue, the panic will only be a matter of time.

Alvor reacts as expected, first with disbelief and then with fear. Hadvar plans to travel to Solitude to warn the Imperial Legions. Alvor is willing to give me some much-needed supplies, but asks a favor of me in return. The Jarl of Whiterun needs to be told that a dragon is on the loose, and that Riverwood is defenseless.

And I agree to tell him. How could I do otherwise? The news must be told.

But first I need some background information. The reports I studied back in Cyrodiil painted a largely favorable picture of Jarl Balgruuf, though there was some criticism about his lack of zeal in supporting the Empire - which made me inclined to like him. My host, however, was convinced that eventually the Jarl would throw in his weight with the Imperial Legions. And so, it seemed, would my host - while he didn't support everything the Empire was doing lately (in particular, allowing Thalmor goon squads to kidnap people just for worshiping a long-dead guy who was part of the state religion not so very long ago), he still sees the rebellion as the worse alternative.

But hey, we have first-class torturers working on changing that!

I bid my leave and travel north. As I leave the forest behind me I see the city of Whiterun jutting out of the tundra, lit by the evening's light. I didn't pass through Whiterun 25 years ago, and am curious what this city is like. And at least I will feel marginally safer there than in the wilderness - if another dragon attacks, there should be plenty of other targets to distract it...

I push the thought aside and press on.

On one of the farms outside the city walls, I see my first giant. It is currently in battle with a trio of warriors who put it down before I even can come close. One of the women spots me and comes over, berating me for not racing to join in the "fun" and fight with a very large, very strong giant. She is apparently one of the "Companions", the famous, glory-hounding Nord brotherhood of warriors that make members of the Fighters Guild after long-night pub crawls seem disciplined. I can't help but notice that the woman is dressed in what seems to be rather skimpy clothing for a warrior - clothes that seem almost more designed for getting out of them quickly than for fighting. Her female companion wears even less, in a garish variety of pink. But I sense that commenting on this would be impudent, as each of the trio looks like they could beat me with one arm behind their backs.

Then I discovered that the giant's mammoth had wandered on the land of a different farm, but apparently nobody had paid anyone to do something about that.

The city guard tries to keep me away, stating that only "official business" is allowed because of the dragons.

"You WILL let me in, fool! I am Araneus Venator from the Black Horse Courier, and I bring news about the dragons! Let me in, or else my news will be about a bothersome city guard who didn't listen to the Mace of Truth!"

"But-"

"Listen to the Mace of Truth!"

That did the trick, as it always does. Make them think that you may have something their superior need (true in this particular case), and also that you are too crazy to get in the way of. If you are just crazy, they might beat you up as a matter of principle, while if you act sane, they will stall you with bullshit because they know that they can push you around.

And with that, I entered the streets of Whiterun.


Continued in Dispatch 04 - In the Jarl's Court.

[Skyrim] Black Horse Dispatches 02 - Saved by the Dragon

Continued from Dispatch 01 - On the Executioner's Block.

I saw it coming as the headsman began to swing his axe. Huge, black, massive. It landed on a tower next to us, and the ground shook, causing the executioner to loose his balance. First Tullius, then everyone else started shouting and running. Then it shouted once, and the skies darkened. It shouted again, and everyone was knocked off their feet.

I nearly lost consciousness, but Ralof, the Stormcloak solider, called out to me. "Hey, you. Get up! Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!" I followed the Stormcloaks into a nearby tower, where we found temporary shelter from the rain of fiery stone that was suddenly coming from the sky - summoned by that creature?

As he closed the door, Ralof asked his leader: "Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." I'll say that for the bastard - he stays stone cold under pressure. I guess you don't get to become the leader of hordes of fanatical followers without actual leadership skills, magical voice notwithstanding. That was enough, and Ralof was focused once again on more pressing matters than mythological speculation - escaping from this deathtrap. He urged everyone to get up the tower, and I raced upstairs - but just as I was about to reach the next floor, the dragon's head bursted through the wall and breathed fire upon a hapless Stormcloak before flying off.

The gap in the wall at least offered an escape route to the top floor of a nearby building, and Ralof urged me to jump, saying that the others would try to follow as soon as they could. Lacking a better idea I did so and ran through the flaming building.

Outside I encountered the aide again, who ducked behind a wall with a small boy as the dragon landed and torched his helpless father.

"Still alive, prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to stay that way." He then directed one of the locals to take care of the boy while he planned to search for Tullius.

Under the circumstances, I had little interest in meeting Tullius, but staying close to the aide still seemed like the marginally better option - my hands were still bound, and if the dragon came close he might still distract them. Besides, running with an Imperial soldier made me look less like a Stormcloak rebel, which is something I wanted to avoid.

We ran into an alley between a building and the wall when the dragon landed on the wall - its wings were so close that I could have touched them, had I been completely out of my mind (which wasn't quite the case - I am used to near-death experiences by now, but being this close to such a massive, alien thing is not something I am used to, nor do I care to get used to it). Fortunately, we escaped its attention and it breathed fire at an unseen target before flying off again.

The town had turned into one of the planes of Oblivion (the Deadlands of Mehrunes Dagon in particular). The Imperial soldiers were being routed by the onslaught, and my companion decided to run for the keep.

There we found Ralof again, who apparently had the same idea. The aide denounced him as "damn traitor", whereupon Ralof shouted: "Out of my way! We are escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." Apparently the two had a mutual history... but I could think about that later. Now I had to decide - follow Hadvar, who had done nothing from going me to the executioner's block, or Ralof, who would attract unwelcome attention from any remaining Imperial forces and would probably remember my disparaging comments about his leader sooner or later?

Hadvar it was. Inside the keep we caught our breaths. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?"

End Times? I suddenly began wishing that I had paid more attention in my "Comparative Mythology" class at the Imperial University (as opposed to wishing that I had set my editor's fur on fire when he sent me to Skyrim, which I had done ever since I crossed the border). I knew that Akatosh, the God of Time, was often depicted as a dragon (we still have this statue in the Imperial City...), but I didn't remember anything about dragons being harbingers of the End Times.

But that can wait.

Hadvar encouraged me to loot the area for supplies, such as arms and armor, but I really didn't need prompting. I had been in desperate circumstances in warzones before - from the Great War to the shadier areas of Tamriel's cities all the way back to bloody Markarth 25 years ago - and I know that when you are out of supplies you scrounge what you can.

A quick search revealed a nearly complete set of Imperial Light Armor and two cheap swords - not my favorite weapon (I favor the mace, the sap, and similar blunt weapons), but it would have to do. I am also not too ashamed to say that I palmed four septims lying on a table. Some among your readers might look down on me for stooping so low in such a life-and-death situation, but unless you have ever been in a situation (or more than one) where your life depended on bribing someone to look the other way I could care less about what you think. My pocket money and my letters of credit had been confiscated by my captors, and as far as I was concerned whatever I could plunder here was only getting part of my money back.

As we made our way deeper in, we heard voices. "Hear that? Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them." Unfortunately, this was not to be - even here, as the town faced its doom, they attacked us as soon as they saw our uniform. Attacked me too - there was no time to protest my neutrality, and so I was forced to cut one of them down. Grabbing his companion's hide shield and gauntlets, we moved on.

A short time later, a passage collapsed before our very eyes as the dragon above us attacked the keep. We changed our route into an old storeroom, where we discovered two further Stormcloaks who likewise were looking for supplies. Hadvar didn't attempt to negotiate this time and attacked them immediately. I hesitated before joining in, but given the uniform I was wearing they probably wouldn't hesitate to kill me after they had finished him, and thus I killed one of them from behind before he had the chance to turn to me. Such is war.

I found some potions which my alchemical training (also from the Imperial University, and rather more thorough than my knowledge of mythology - though much of that training was self-experimentation. Nobody could down a potion quicker than I, a fact that saved my life in more than one fight) identified as healing and magicka potions as well as a mild stimulant. I also grabbed some food, but lost all appetite later as we came closer to a truly appalling smell, and I wish I hadn't smelled that combination of blood, urine, and vomit as often in my life as I did.

"The torture room. Gods, I wish we didn't need those." Yes, Hadvar. And I am sure they explained all the reasons for why we "need" torturers in the Empire's employ during Basic Training for the Empire's Finest. Can't be soft on our enemies, can we? Let's see those pig-suckers squeal for what they, or their relatives, or someone from the same town did to our side!

At least Hadvar still seems to feel a sting of his conscience. I hope he doesn't lose that, if he survives - but that's often the first thing one loses in war.

A combat had broken out in the room between some Stormcloaks and the room's... operators. This time I didn't join up, and not just because the situation was already well in hand.

"You fellows happened along just in time. These boys seemed a bit upset at how I've been entertaining their comrades."

Exasperated, Hadvar replies: "Don't you even know what's going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen!"

"A dragon? Please. Don't make up nonsense.

Although, come to think of it, I did hear some odd noises coming from over there..."

While Hadvar wasted his breath on the waste of breath trying to convince him to flee, I plundered the room and the fallen - taking a mace as well as some lockpicks (taken from prisoners) and healing potions (the better to prolong their agonies). Hadvar then spotted another potion in a locked prisoner cage, but the head torturer told him that he had lost the key ages ago. Well, time to put those new lockpicks to the test - I had some practice sneaking in and out of the dorms at the University (and only later did I learn that they deliberately put in fairly simple locks, so that the students feel all rebellious when they pick them and sneak out for some harmless pub crawls). I opened it on my first try, while our host complained, "Sure. Please. Take all of my things." but I didn't have the time to bash in his skull, peel off his skin, and use it to wipe my posterior the next time I had to do a dump in the woods.

I did pick up the potion, some gold, a tome which turned out to be a spellbook (for a spell that releases a small bolt of lightening, as I later discovered) and the prisoner's clothes which felt magical to the touch, however. And on my way out I saw a book lying on a chair - "The Book of the Dragonborn". Sounded mythological to me, and if I have to cover myths-made-real like dragons (which you can bet my furry bastard of an editor will insist on, once he catches up on this development), I'd better start researching these matters soon. Assuming I get out of the keep alive, that is.

Racing down into the bowels of the keep, we encountered more Stormcloaks - five this time. Were really that many Stormcloaks on the carriages? And where was Ulfric? Two archers were hanging back, but they were standing in the middle of an oil slick released by an overturned lamp. Remembering a basic cantrip, I released a jet of flame to ignite it. After that, the fight ended quickly.

Another corridor collapsed thanks to the rampaging dragon, but this time behind us, just as we entered a natural-seeming cave system. And like most other cave systems, this one was infested with vermin - spiders, in this case. As I spotted them in the distance, I smiled and pulled out my freshly-looted bow - you could say that hunting them was a family tradition for us, and I knew how to deal them.

However, charging them while blocking the line of sight of friendly archers is not the best way of dealing with them, which is unfortunately exactly what Hadvar did - even though he had his own bow. Some of my shots went wide and I started to feel my muscles, still sore after all the abuse of the... last hour? Less than an hour? It felt like Ages. But magic does not require muscle power (which is why most mages tend to be scrawny), and I finished the last two off with further jets of flame.

A short time later we came across a sleeping bear. Hadvar suggested either sneaking past it or taking it out with an arrow, even giving me his own bow even though mine was still in reasonable condition. But unlike spiders, torturers, and editors bears do not offend me merely by existing, and thus we peacefully passed him by and reached the exit.

Where we discovered that the dragon still wasn't gone.

Continued in Dispatch 03 - The Road to Whiterun.

[Skyrim] Black Horse Dispatches 01 - On the Executioner's Block

My head hurt.

This was, in itself, not an unusual occurrence. I've had some spectacular hangovers over the years, often amplified by various illicit substances I experimented with in my youth - and just as often I had been given do-overs by large, brutish thugs whose employers took a dislike to some of my article.

As my vision cleared, I realized that I was sitting bound on a carriage surrounded by Imperial soldiers, and concluded that the latter was more likely. But what was the reason this time? Not that certain officers needed all that much reason, given my reporting on their conduct in the Great War. Then I focused an attention on the prisoner sitting opposite to me. His uniform seemed familiar.

A Stormcloak. The reason why I was sent to Skyrim - and the reason (well, one of them) why I never wanted to return to this cold, troll-infested wasteland. But in the eyes of my editor, curse his furry hide, this made me perfect for the job since I had experience.

The Stormcloak spotted I was regaining consciousness, and filled me in that I had walked into an Imperial ambush while I was crossing the border - one intended to catch his merry band of revolutionaries. But I was not the only bystander caught in the net, as a loudly complaining horse thief sitting next to him confirmed.

Then the thief turned his attention to the last prisoner in our carriage, who was not only bound but gagged. "What's wrong with him, huh?" With a start, I realized that I could answer that.

"That is Ulfric Stormcloak, the so-called Bear of Markarth and leader of the Stormcloaks."

"What?"

"I have seen him before. I was in Markarth, 25 years ago. I've seen him shout surrendering Forsworn, men and women alike, off the city walls and watched their brains splatter on the ground far below. I've seen his goons torture and kill prisoners - harmless bystanders, including old people who were too weak to raise a sword anymore - because they deemed them traitors to their cause. I was were, and I wish I could forget."

The Stormcloak stared at me with hatred. "Watch your tongue! You are speaking about the true High King of Skyrim!"

The thief began to panic. "You are the leader of the rebellion! But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we are going, but Sovngarde awaits."

With that, the Stormcloak changed topic and asked the thief about his home, perhaps to avoid thinking about what was to come. But at that point, for some inexplicable reason, the carriages in our little wagon train began to veer to the left, away from the road and the nearby Helgen town gate and rammed into a small copse of trees.

I will never know whether this was just fatigue on the part of our drivers, the usual efficiency which we can expect from the Empire's Finest, or some last-ditch effort to free Ulfric from his impending doom - but the fact that both my carriage and the carriage ahead of us moved to the left at the same time and thus maximized the chaos leads me to strongly suspect magical mind control, not that it will ever be proven now. That the Helgen gate closed after only a single rider from our group passed through was another nice touch, thus cutting the carriage guards off from reinforcements.

But if this was sabotage, it was wasted - I hit my head again at the impact, and the other prisoners likewise seemed to be too concussed to make a break for it. In a few moments the opportunity was gone, the gate reopened, and we were carried into town to meet our doom.

Immediately to the right, we saw General Tullius himself, the military governor of Skyrim, astride on his horse and talking to a group of Altner.

"And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this!" voiced the Stormcloak - and I suspect that he may be right, although not for the ambush that caught us but the accident right outside of the gates.

"But Araneus!", you interject. "Hasn't Ulfric Stormcloak always loudly stated how much he hates the Aldmeri Dominion and everything it stands for? Why then would they attempt to free him?"

Because nobody profits as much from the Stormcloak Rebellion as the Aldmeri Dominion. Think about it - after the Great War, the Empire was reduced to Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Skyrim, with Morrowind being largely abandoned by Imperial forces and Hammerfell becoming outright independent. But everyone knows that the Thalmor have not abandoned their doctrine of Elven Supremacy, and as long as that's the case a rematch is inevitable.

And if the Stormcloaks succeed in making Skyrim independent, the Empire will be broken. High Rock will be isolated from Cyrodiil, which means that High Rock will likely become independent sooner or later as well - and then the rest of Tamriel becomes easy pickings for the Dominion. And even if the Stormcloaks fail, the Empire will have wasted lots of men and resources putting them down and created a lot of resentment to keep further rebellions going for decades. So the worst thing that could happen, from the perspective of the Thalmor, is that Ulfric is captured and taken out in some surgical strike, and it looked like precisely that had just happened.

But I am only now able to write these thoughts to paper - at the time, I was preoccupied with other matters, such as a call to Tullius that the headsman was waiting. I did note that one of the Thalmor seemed familiar - one of the representatives who came to the signing of the White-Gold Concordant?

When we arrived at the executioner's block and stepped out of the carriage, the thief attempted to protest his innocence, but a captain of the Legion just told everyone: "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!"

After her aide started with "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm", the next on the list was the other Stormcloak - "Ralof of Riverwood" - and then the thief, "Lokir of Rorikstead", who then decided to make a break for it and was promptly shot down by archers.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the captain asked in a smug tone, and then it was my turn. "Wait. You there. Step forward. Who are you?"

"I am Araneus Venator, writer for the Black Horse Courier. I was sent to Skyrim to report on the Stormcloak Rebellion. My credentials should be in the backpack you have confiscated."

"From the Black Horse Courier? Captain, what should we do? He is not on the list. Have you seen that backpack?"

"Indeed I have, soldier. But I saw no papers of any kind - but instead I found large a large supply of skooma."

"That skooma is for purely personal use!" I protested, but to no avail.

"Yes, I bet that's what they all say. No, solider, I suspect that we have caught one of the skooma smugglers who have been funding Ulfric's little rebellion, and I am sure the good folks of Skyrim will be interested in just how Ulfric was able to pay his troops.

So forget the list. He goes to the block."

The soldier looked skeptical, but they don't train the Empire's Finest to argue with superiors." By your orders, Captain." He turned to me: "I'm sorry. We will make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil. Follow the Captain, prisoner!"

Even in this situation, my mind raced. The skooma was real enough, but there were only three flasks (like I say, for purely personal use) - hardly enough to mark me as a serious "smuggler", and something that would only result in a fine back in Cyrodiil. And I didn't buy for a moment that nobody found my credentials. I suspect that someone - either the Captain or someone in her chain of command - had the bright idea to smear Ulfric Stormcloak's reputation in order to make him less of a martyr - from the perspective of the Empire, "Drug Lord of Windhelm" sounded like a better epitaph than "Folk Hero of Skyrim". And like said, I do have enemies in the Imperial Legions who would love to get me out of the picture - did they have friends among the officers involved in this operation?

General Tullius, meanwhile, couldn't resist the opportunity to gloat in front of Ulfric, now that the latter was bound and gagged. To his credit, he didn't use the "Drug Lord" line (that might have come later, if events hadn't turned out like this), but as said "...and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" a sound echoed from beyond the nearby mountains which still sends a chill down my spine, and which I hope to never hear again.

Imagine a great bird of prey calling out - and then imagine it much deeper and louder, but from a long way off and echoing so much that you cannot tell from where it comes. "You are prey," this call says "run and hide if you can and pray that I am hunting other prey today."

Now the soldiers became nervous. Tullius claimed "It's nothing. Carry on.", but he was clearly rattled as well and stopped his ranting. The Captain called on a priestess to do our Last Rites, but as the priestess started with:

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you..."

One of the other Stormcloak soliders, visibly upset about the omission of his favorite culture-hero from the ranks of the Divines, interrupted her. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." He stepped forward to the block, exclaiming: "Come on, I haven't got all morning!"

As was pushed down to the block, his last words before his head was cut off was: "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

As the crowd jeered either him or the Empire's Finest, I was called out and I raced to think of some good insults expressing my disdain for the Stormcloaks, the officer corps of the Imperial Legions, my editor and everyone else who has wronged me over the years - but that list was long and my time was short, and my train of thoughts was interrupted by that horrible sound again, leaving me at a loss for words for only the fourth time in my life.

I was called again and numbly walked towards the block. The Captain pushed me down and the headsman towered above me with his enormous, blood-encrusted axe. I saw my life flashing before me and cursed the fate - and more specifically, the editor - that had sent me here.

And that's when the dragon attacked.

Continued in Dispatch 02 - Saved by the Dragon.

Setting Idea - Strange Supers

I've been meaning to develop a supers setting for GURPS for a while since I wanted to see how well the system works with the high-powered supers genre. The goal was to allow pretty much every common power source / origin defined by GURPS Powers, GURPS Supers, and superhero comics in general, yet have a strong, interesting "theme" that ties the world together.

And, after recently re-reading the comic series Planetary, I think I have come up with an idea.

This world exists somewhere within the Infinite Worlds cosmology of GURPS, and is, in fact, a close parallel of Homeline - even sharing the exact same "now", which means that parachronic travel (moving between different timelines) from this world is possible. All that was needed was the inventor... and the man who invented parachronic travel in Homeline, Paul Van Zandt, also did it on this world, right on schedule in 1995.

Also like in Homeline, he concealed his experiments from the public. However, while his Homeline equivalent published his findings in 1998, on this world he refused to do so - instead, he stole technologies from other worlds and released them as "inventions" via his company, White Star Enterprises, and quickly became the richest man on the planet.

However, he only released a fraction of what he and his fellow conspirators have acquired, and gradually faded from public view. The wealth was only a means to an end - what he was really after was human enhancement technologies. He, and his Inner Circle of trusted associates, wanted to become like gods. Quite a few parallel worlds had experimented with different forms of human enhancement, and combining them held enormous promise - but all these approaches needed thorough testing, and so the Inner Circle turned their own Earth into a gigantic lab. Mutagens, nanotech, even alien artifacts were all raided from other worlds and turned loose via shell organizations or staged "accidents" that exposed normal people to them and turned them into super-powered beings. Meanwhile, they raided top scientists from other worlds and forced them to work in their secret labs on the latest scientific and technological breakthroughs.

It was only a matter of time until one of Van Zandt's raiding parties came across one of the other crosstime traveling factions, and luckily he came across the Cabal first - who were very understanding about this whole "experimenting on humans in order to become gods" thing. While the Cabal believes that eventually all this will blow up in Van Zandt's face (which is why they haven't formally invited him into their club), they have become eager trading partners for knowledge and information. They warned Van Zandt about the other factions in the multiverse (causing the raiders to become a bit more circumspect), and helped him with magical advances - even finding out a way of raising his world's mana level.

As a result, around the turn millennium super-powered beings have started to appear. Their origin stories differ widely, and often seem mutually contradictory (since the artifacts triggering them come from different timelines). The Inner Circle generally allows them to operate freely so that their powers and their interactions can be observed, only intervening in particularly interesting situations. And the supers - villains and heroes alike - go about their daily business without realizing the hidden puppet strings that control their world...

Your thoughts?

[Cthulhutech] Rewriting "Mortal Remains", Part II - Government & Politics

Continued from the previous post.

Politics always makes for grand drama. I should know - where other people watch soap operas, I follow American politics (despite being German). And this kind of drama makes for good role-playing fodder. With this in mind, let's delve into how the government of Cthulhutech's New Earth Government is run.

From this section of Mortal Remains, we learn the following things:

The Lower House of the Earth Parliament, the "Hall of Commons", is restricted to 2,000 representatives, and has three major parties: The "Federalist Party" ("Conservative", for balance between state and federal level), "Unification Party ("liberal", for a strong, centralized government), "Social Democrats" (a smaller "Labor party", which can often play the two other parties against each other). There is also a "Senate Council" ("Upper House") for which each member state selects two representatives, with a "Security Council" subcommittee analogous to the UN Security Council which provides additional checks and balances. Elections are every four years, and once the "majority party" is determined, the Senate Council asks it to form a government.

What this section does not explain how precisely the Representatives of the Hall of Commons are elected, which is rather important for political drama. Given that the combined population of humans and Nazzadi is 4.3 billion, there is about 1 Representative for each 2.15 million humans. Has NEG territory been divided into 2000 voting districts where the winner of a simple plurality within the district will be chosen as the Representative, analogous to the American "first past the post" voting system? As much fun as this would open up for the politics of gerrymandering, I think not. Given the vagaries of the Arcanotech Wars where entire regions could be depopulated within short time spans, it would be very demoralizing to end up with Representatives without living voting districts (*cough* China *cough*), and before the following elections you'd have to redraw the voting district maps all over again - and who has time and energy for that, in a time of total war?

Instead, I suspect, we will see "party lists" like they exist in many parliamentary systems. Basically, the parties come up with a numbered list of candidates. Then, after the elections, they get a number of seats proportional to the percentage of the vote they have received - so if they get 40% of the vote, they will get 800 seats out of the 2000 seats in the Hall of Commons. These seats are filled up in the order of their party lists, so candidates #1 to #800 on that party's list all get seats, while #801 is out of luck (so close...). Additionally, to avoid hopelessly splintering the Hall of Commons with fringe parties, there will also likely be a minimum percentage of votes a party needs to get before it can enter the Hall of Commons (Germany, for example, requires at least 5% of the vote).

There you have it - a fairly simple, straightforward voting system which should work fairly well for a world government with highly fluctuating populations and territory.

"But wait!", you say. "How are the party lists created?"

A good question, and the process likely involves some kind of intra-party primaries. Now, a simple method would be to just start with a very large pool of would-be candidates and let all party members - or all people who have "registered" with a certain party, as it is customary in many US states - to vote on them, giving the #1 spot to the person with the most votes, the #2 spot to the person with the second most votes, and so on.

But that's boring (and thus anathema to adventure), not to mention unrealistic given the evolution of the NEG.

After all, the NEG was formed only 27 years ago - and when it was formed, it needed parties capable of operating on a global scale in a hurry. These could hardly be created out of whole cloth - instead, they needed to be built out of existing parties around the world, so that the new global parties could use the regional parties' existing voter base and party organizations.

And the negotiations involved were likely very protacted and difficult - and many of these parties, especially the ones in larger nations with huge voter bases plus the ones in rich nations which had lots of funds, likely negotiated special privileges for themselves. For example, if India represented one-fith of the world's voters, then a major Indian party joining a global party might have demanded one-fifth of all slots on the party list (i.e. #5, #10, #15 and so forth) be reserved for Indians - and the nascent global party might have aquiesced out of fear of losing Indian voters to another global party. Of course, by 2085 large parts of India have been lost to the Rapine Storm, reducing the number of Indian voters - but the party bylines still state that one-fifth of all seats must be reserved for Indian candidates, and any attempts to change that would provoke an outcry among Indian voters and possibly even mass defections to other parties.

Such rules can be different for each party and also tie the parties more to different regions - the more candidates on the party list come from a particular part of the world, the more support it will likely have from the local voters. The party leaders will likely try to support candidates who can maximize votes in the different parts of the world, but creating an optimal list will be difficult. Meanwhile, the would-be candidates compete fiercely among themselves for better (and thus more "secure") spots on the list...

While all state governments are now determined by free elections, this does not necessarily mean that they all have the same parties as on the global level. In countries with long traditions of multi-party elections, the local parties will likely have retained their traditional names as well, though they may be "associated" with one of the global parties (and thus have access to that party's networks and influence). In former one-party states, the former government party will likely associate with one of the global parties and do its best to remain the dominant force in local politics - which, given its extensive networks, it is in an excellent position to do so. In states that didn't have any official parties whatsoever, the "new parties" associated with the global parties will likely be formed out of the various power blocks of the old government (the miltary, the intelligence agencies, and so forth). Their committment to democracy may be less than convincing - which of course makes it more interesting at the global level, as even the former henchmen of brutal dictators demand their seat at the party tables.

As a final note, I would alter the section on monarchies and note that all remaining monarchies have purely ceremonial functions - they exist, and they are funded at a state level, but they no longer have any formal government powers. Thus, they serve as a symbol of tradition for their states, and little else - but in times of war, many people will find comfort in tradition.

To be continued...

[Cthulhutech] Rewriting "Mortal Remains", Part I - The Basics

I always liked the idea of Cthulhutech. Turning the Cthulhu Mythos into an alien invasion scenario, and fight it out with Mythos beings with huge mecha? What's not to like?

However, as the setting was expanded I felt that it did not live up to the potential of the premise. Too many setting elements seemed implausible, and too often adventure and story potential were restricted rather than enhanced. In my view, one of the most problematic examples of this was Chapter Two of Mortal Remains, which details the New Earth government and its people and territories. Therefore I will be going through this chapter section by section and analyze what I would do differently. For this, I have the following design guidelines:

1. Plausibility

"One cannot, except in immature pulp charlatan–fiction, present an account of impossible, improbable, or inconceivable phenomena as a commonplace narrative of objective acts and conventional emotions. Inconceivable events and conditions have a special handicap to overcome, and this can be accomplished only through the maintenance of a careful realism in every phase of the story except that touching on the one given marvel."

- H.P. Lovecraft, in "Notes on Writing Weird Fiction"

Cthulhutech obviously has quite a few "marvels" - that is, "out-of-the-ordinary" setting elements which can break suspension of disbelief. There is the Cthulhu Mythos itself, the mechas, the occult and the psychics, the Aeon War itself... These form the core of the setting and must remain. Yet to make horror possible, anything outside of these core concepts should be presented as plausible as possible. If the heroes are to be defenders of a society on the brink of extinction, they have to feel, at least during the game, that this society exists and is worth defending - which is difficult if various setting elements feel implausible.

2. Making full use of Earth

"That's why, for the longest time (and still), my fundamental setting design policy was: "Use Earth." It's better mapped, better documented, and just plain weirder than anywhere else."

- Kenneth Hite

Earth, with all its history and diversity of geography and cultures, is an amazing world - truly "the most detailed game setting there is". And one of the main reasons for using Earth as the base for a published setting is that game masters can tap into all this diversity to come up with new story and adventure idea. Any setting description should therefore pay homage to this diversity - it doesn't neet to provide exhaustive detail, but it should inspire ideas and give the game masters ample motivation to research the region and expand on it beyond what the "official" materials cover. This diversity should not be removed without good reason.

3. Compatibility

There are quite a few people who want to rewrite the setting from the ground up. I am not so ambitious - I want to make any changes fairly self-contained. The fundamentals of the setting should remain as they are, changing in presentation rather than substance, and more radical changes will only be on a lower, "local" level in order to avoid invalidating other material for the game.

To be continued...