Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The Atlas (Where I'm Coming From, Part 4)

Yeah, that title's getting recursive. I should probably do something about that.

So in my previous post, I wrote that I rejected Greyhawk for being to, well, uniform in its "Europeaness" and the Realms for having too much meta-plot . . . and that this this led me to reconsider my old Kingdoms of Kalamar material.

In particular, the Atlas.

I'm one of the lucky ones who got a chance to buy the atlas before Kenzerco started publishing primarily through pdfs. It's a beautful piece of work, showing the whole world in a physical map at 25 miles per inch and at 500-1000' elevations. Not only the major cities and towns, but every single village with more than 500 people, every major road and minor path, every navigable river and major creek is shown in glorious detail.

Only the major geographic details (i.e., those shown and labeled on that original air-brushed maps) are labeled, so there are plenty of rivers and hills with no name, and plenty of potential small forests and swamps for the DM to place as he sees fit.

Basically, it's the same scale as the Forgotten Realms' maps of the Dalelands and the Sword Coast, but for the whole continent.

I've found two downsides to the level of detail in the Atlas. First, it takes a bit more work to drop in a pre-made module (other than those made for KoK, of course). I can usually find a place that looks close enough to the area described in a module, but it does take a bit of re-working, something changing distances or fudging what I see on the map to drop in a marsh or whatever. That's not terrible, but it does mean that I can't just drop in locales fresh "out of the box."

The second problem is that the level of "realistic" detail necessarily defines the sort of campaign you're going to run. This can be good or bad depending on what you want.

On the bad side, if you want to run a rather gonzo exploration campaign defined by epic and strange landmarks, KoK may not be for you. This is a bit of a damper on my enthusiasm on those days when I want to create a wierd hexcrawl campaign that runs on the same kind of logic as your standard megadungeon does, the rule-of-fun and rule-of-interesting trumping realism.

On the good side, if you want to run a campaign that proceeds from the versmilitude of a realistic setting, the Atlas combined with the Sourcebook does all of the high-concept work for you--including giving the broad strokes of the weather patterns, area resources, major trade routes, etc.--and then zooms in so as to do a lot of the local work as well. You don't have to come up with names for every settlement; the Atlas does it for you (which can be bad, but I'll deal with that in a later post).

So how do you fit that with the rather high-fantasy assumed in the B/X D&D books? Here, I think we need to look again at the concept of alignment, which deserves its own post, but also with a post over on the Greyhawk Grognard blog from a few years ago:

In some sandbox-type settings, the idea is to explore a wilderness and "clear it out", much like some players are inclined to "clean out" a dungeon or dungeon level before moving on. But the World of Greyhawk fantasy setting, much like the concept of the megadungeon itself (which largely had its genesis in Greyhawk) works a little bit differently. Those "empty" hexes are only empty in the context of adventurers looking for stuff to explore and things to kill. Simply put, in the civilized lands of Greyhawk (and even in the barbarian lands in the northern belt of the map) you're not supposed to go into a given hex with the idea that it is a new realm to be tamed, its inhabitants slain and its lands brought into the sphere of civilization. In many respects, it's just another part of the montage of travel, flyover country where you must travel by necessity in order to get to your ultimate destination. . .  [I]n a setting such as Greyhawk, the theme is not "exploring the wilderness, taming it, and bringing it to the realm of civilization". It's "there are elder places of deep and abiding mystery, which we reach by passing through relatively mundane spaces."
And so it is with Tellene. As it turns out, the maps have a surprising amount of area that is untamed, but even within major civilized areas like the Kingdom of Kalamar itself, there are pockets of wilderness that man has never been able to claim, or else has claimed and lost again to the forces of Chaos. These areas become even more evident with the Atlas's insistance on marking every outpost with more than 500 people--you can see exactly where civilization ends and the true wilderness begins.

In a future post, I'll talk about how I came about restructuring the nine-alignment system assumed by KoK (a holdover from D&D) into the three-fold structure of B/X, and how that impacts my understanding of the world of Tellene. But first, let me finish explaining why I came back to Kalamar.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Return to Kalamar (Where I'm Coming From, Part 3)

So why exactly did I want to play a B/X D&D campaign in Kalamar?

Well, the B/X part was pretty easy. I'd already introduced a group of young players to a mix of Holmes and Mentzer's Expert set, but the lack of legal copies of the rules was hampering to some. The release of legal pdfs of B/X made it possible to not just play a good retroclone of D&D (as good as Labyrinth Lord is), but actually introduce the next generation to the game I grew up with.

All I needed was an initial setting for the campaign.

Here, I have to admit, my "gamer's ADD" was the main problem. As I got back into reading the old fantasy novels that I hadn't given away (precious few of the ones I kept were "game" novels, thank God) and started picking up some of the works in Gary Gygax's famed "Appendix N," I found myself veering back and forth between possible settings for the game, from a kind of fantasy version of ancient Israel lying on the borders of a magitek/steampunk empire, to a Borderlands campaign (ala B2: Keep on the Borderlands) set in a medieval Poland based heavily on Poul Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions, to a gonzo fantasy campaign based on Grimm's fairy tales and the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon show . . . I just kept jumping around from idea to idea, map to map. Had I the time, I might have even tried to patch them all together Golarion-style (and my hats off to Paizo for that setting, btw), but the responsibilities of work and family (including a new baby) just weren't giving me that time.

It probably didn't help my limited time that I was during that same period immersing myself in the writings of the various blogs and boards of the OSR: Grognardia, Bat in the Attic, B/X Blackrazor, Blood of Prokopius,  the OD&D Discussion Boards, Philotomy's now-defunct site, etc. Had I been able to obtain legal copies of Gary and Dave's original rules, I don't doubt for a moment that I would have started up a game, but alas, I missed the window of opportunity there.

Eventually, it came down to the old addage, "Fish or cut bait." I could spend years studying OD&D, data-mining the rules for clues about its assumed world, philosophizing, endlessly editing my own house rules, and endlessly creating still-born campaign worlds . . . or I could play.

The re-release of the B/X rules settled the rules issue--I could house-rule and create new races and classes to my heart's content, but I had a basic ruleset to start from--but I still had the problem of needing a setting.

I needed a world with a lot of different cultures and situations so that I could indulge my gamer ADD (transitioning the characters from region to region instead of coming up with a new world every week). That leaned against doing Greyhawk, which is pretty much a swords & sorcery mirror-universe of Europe. That's not bad, of course, just not what I needed to satisfy all of my cravings at once.

The Forgotten Realms was a second choice that came to mind. I still have all the materials of my original gray box, though I sadly lost many of the add-ons in subsequent moves. (Losing The Savage Frontier hurts the most, I think.) My biggest problem with the Realms is that after literally decades of novels and modules and a vast overarching metaplot . . . I really don't see any way to make it my own. Granted, I could've just declared that nothing after the gray box was canon, unless I wanted it to be (I liked many of the early novels), but . . .

So that led to me digging back out my Kingdoms of Kalamar material and reading it over. And despite some of the names not really scratching my Tolkien/Greenwood itch, I found myself falling back in love with the setting again.

To be continued . . .