“Second star to the right and straight on ’til morning.”
-directions to Never Never Land from Peter Pan
There will be no map for Alyria.
I will pause while you recover from your shock.
Yes, I hear some of you sputtering in confusion. “But…but…isn’t this supposed to be an RPG dwelling heavily on setting? How can you get away without having a map?” It is quite simple really, and it all boils down to what I mean when I say that Alyria will be setting-intensive.
Most of you are used to the standard definition of setting-intensive. These are games that lavish incredible attention on the game world, lovingly sculpting every tiny detail and patiently filling in each area. There is a sense of entering a completely realized world, drawn from the mists of imagination, where nothing is left out of place. Games like Blue Planet, Legend of the Five Rings, and, in its own way, Orkworld leap to mind. For any question, there is an answer, and it is usually to be found in one of the many rulebooks produced for the game. Every nook and cranny is accounted for and has been described.
There is a problem with this approach, though. In many cases, it seems as though so much detail has been put into the world that no room is left for the GM to maneuver. At every turn he is hemmed in by the game text, and woe betide him if he deviate from canon! Many gamers are very touchy about such things. Just scan through any given gaming-related forum or newsgroup and you should be able to find examples of the kind of debate to which I am referring.
If you have been following my columns, you know by now that I do not believe in this approach to game design. Rather, as I have said in the past, I plan on leaving “holes” in the setting, patches from which the mist of imagination has not yet been cleared, places for the game group to operate and shape to their own specifications. This is very much in conflict with the normal method of creating setting-intensive games. So, what do I mean when I say that I am making a setting-intensive game?
More than anything else, I see Alyria as a certain sort of mood. I have taken to describing this mood as a romantic melancholy. It’s the same sort of feeling that I get from listening to the Blade Runner soundtrack. There is a certain ambience to the world that drips from every part of it, no matter where I look. A large part of my job as a designer is trying to communicate this sense of romantic melancholy to you. That is part of what I mean by “setting-intensive”.
Also, there are certain themes implicit in the game. I will not point them out, as that would ruin any attempts at subtlety that I may make, but if I do my job right, I think that you will capture the tones and implications that communicate the underlying themes and concerns of Alyria. That also is “setting-intensive”.
So, rather than the completely clear setting of the standard “setting-intensive” games, I envision a setting where large swathes of territory are still cloaked in the mists of imagination. Yet, at the same time, within the mists are shapes, dimly seen and half-shrouded. Suggested outlines of new places, people, plotlines. All can be found in the mist. This gives the gaming group the freedom they need to be able to operate, yet at the same time the group is given guidance into the “proper” way to use the blank spots. Certain themes are propounded; certain moods are implied and imparted. How the gaming group improvises from there is up to them.
Another argument that I could envision for a map goes something like this: “A picture is worth a thousand words, right? How is writing a description for efficient at communicating than having a map drawn?” I have two answers to this objection.
First, while I will yield that a picture is often worth a thousand words, at the same time, I lose control over which words they will be. A map is especially bad in this regard. Can you tell me what is drier and more rational than a map? If I were to translate into words what a map of Alyria says, it might look like this: “The Citadel is situated on the coast of a large bay that directly connects into the Sea of Mist. Five hundred miles to the east, the Ark is located in the foothills of the large mountain range that is found there.” Yawn. Would you want to read a book that consisted of text like that?
Instead, try this on for size: “Like a cancerous blot, the Citadel squats on the shore of a large bay of the Sea of Mist. Lightning storms sweep off the Sea, battering it with wind and rain while the eldritch fire of the lightning dances among the Archways that tower over the decaying urban sprawl. Far to the east, the Ark rises from the foothills of the Worldspine. It measures a mile on each side and is a mile high, a cube of stone and steel, as closed to the world as the people that inhabit it.” Much better, eh? In one respect, you get fewer hard details this second way, and the precision of the spatial relationships are lost. However, you gain so much more than you lose. A map cannot help me communicate the themes and moods that are at the center of Alyria.
Even so, this is not an insurmountable problem. I mean, I could write the descriptive text like this and still provide a map, couldn’t I? Of course I could. However, this would fill in too many of the “holes” that I want to leave in the world. If I commission a map, I cannot be satisfied with just indicating the locations of the major places, like the Citadel or the Ark. No, I need to create an entire geography, including mountain ranges, rivers, secondary cities, forests, and more. However, for Alyria, each of those elements exists for the sake of serving the story. If the characters are exploring a forest, it is because the setting is appropriate to the plot, not because the rulebook says that there is a forest three days south of the Citadel. An author of a fantasy epic can afford to fill in the details of his world. More often than not, he has only one story to tell in that world and he can make all his details work together to tell his story. I do not have that luxury. My world needs to support many different stories, and if I do not allow collaborative room for my co-authors, I will be doing them a disservice.
As an aside, if you are interested in seeing this approach to world building in action in a story, just read “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath” by H.P. Lovecraft. I doubt that Lovecraft had a map when he wrote this story but it is one of the most evocative stories that I have ever read, precisely because of the mood with which Lovecraft invests his Dreamland cities and places.
I know that this approach to world building will not sit well with everyone. Some folks like their detailed worlds and that is okay. To be fair, I am a sucker for a fully-realized world, too. However, this is not the best approach for me to implement Alyria. An approach lighter on the details and heavier on the moods and themes will be better for everyone in the end. And just consider this. Many people bemoan the decline in gamer-created worlds, saying that too many people are willing to accept a shrink-wrapped world straight from the company. Well, now I am offering you the chance to do something different. Are you sure that you want to miss out?
