Friday 21 August 2020

The Magician's Nephew's Goose-Gold

I recently read over the proto-design document for Patrick Stuart’s Goose-Gold and Goblins (see here). There were elements in it that put me in mind of CS Lewis’s The Magician’s Nephew (first chronologically, sixth in publication order of the Chronicles of Narnia). I said I would outline how to apply it. More obvious sources of inspiration are Studio Ghibli films (hence the Shintobox elements) and fairy tales, but I think that The Magician’s Nephew specifically would be good to consider. I shall begin with the second paragraph:

(Chances are if you‘re reading this Blog you’ve read The Magician’s Nephew [hereafter TMN] anyway, but if you haven’t, do so).

In those days Mr Sherlock Holmes was still living in Baker Street and the Bastables were looking for treasure in the Lewisham Road. In those days, if you were a boy you had to wear a stiff Eton collar every day, and schools were usually nastier than now. But meals were nicer; and as for sweets, I won’t tell you how cheap and good they were, because it would only make you mouth water in vain. And in those days there lived in London a girl called Polly Plummer.

So: the real world elements of Narnia are here drawn from the past – the late Victorian era – rather than the 1940s and 50s of other Chronicles. This is not idealised (think of the later reaction of the Cabby and his horse to arriving in Narnia), but it is clearly thinking of a Britain (indeed, a London) before two world wars and Rationing. 

Goose-Gold and Goblins (hereafter GG&G) looks to give XP for Food, but there is something more in this. The implication of distant or neutral government (comparative with Wartime Britain or a post-war Welfare State) is fitting. Monsters like cruel teachers are also cited by GG&G.

Polly and Digory are our protagonists, and are both children (GG&G would have your characters either be quite young or quite old). Their families’ London houses are connected by the attic; so they meet and explore together.

It is wonderful how much exploring you can do with a stub of candle in a big house, or row of houses. 

The urban setting (for now!) isn’t quite right for GG&G, but the exploration of your local area (and the implicit decay of exploring a house with empty or unused rooms) is right.

Digory and Polly encounter his Uncle Andrew, who turns out to be an amateur magician. However, he’s not a kindly man (“Men like me, who possess hidden wisdom, are freed from common rules just as we are cut off from common pleasures. Ours is a high and lonely destiny.”). He spirits Polly away to unknown parts, and this is shocking – not just in the sense of being magic, but in its suddenness and violence. 

It was so sudden and so terribly unlike anything that had ever happened to Digory even in a nightmare, that he let out a scream.

Uncle Andrew turns out to inherited artefacts of Atlantis (so he believes) from a fairy godmother, who does not appear to have been terribly pleasant. A secluded, conceited, foolish, vain and seemingly rather lazy figure, he sits within two elements of GG&G – the unemployed Uncle of the ‘Pets’ section and the sinister but knowledgeable Well-Dweller of the player’s house. 

It’s notable that the magic Uncle Andrew can employ actually has fairly limited uses (he also doesn’t really know what he’s playing with). The rings he has made shift the wearer between dimensions, but little more. This seems to be in line with how GG&G would have magic appear. 

Digory’s mother is ill; his father is far and away in India. Both illness and absence are key motivations for adventuring in GG&G. Now, the Ketterly household does not appear to be impoverished (they can afford at least one servant and Uncle Andrew doesn’t appear to bring in any money). But the emotional consequences on Digory are present throughout TMN.

Playing on Digory’s young and uncertain courtesy, Uncle Andrew manipulates him into going after Polly. The place between worlds turns out to be a calm wood, rather than some kind of hallucinatory abyss.

From the illustrations to TMN by Pauline Baynes.
Both children are just in their street clothes, rather than festooned with gear and weapons.

They find themselves in the dead world of Charn and awaken the Witch-Queen Jadis. From the start she’s fairly unpleasant (and reveals herself to have gone in for MAD via terrible magic [Queen Jadis, Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Deplorable Word]). However, there’s an element of mercy in Digory and Polly’s treatment of her – they aren’t murderhobos and you don’t leave a woman all alone in a dead world or a mystical wood. Ultimately, of course, she forces them to take her across dimension, but they don’t make up their minds to murder her out of hand.

Jadis’s rampage through London has little aesthetic bearing on GG&G, but the disputation of an established system may be thematically apt. Certainly, the confrontation between the amateur magician and the unpredictable evil they produce has some bearing on the potential for pacts with dark forces that GG&G contains. 


Jadis | Chronicles of narnia, The magicians nephew, Narnia
From the illustrations to TMN by Pauline Baynes. 
The only way to travel when in the Metropolis.


(Compare with Nesbit’s Story of the Amulet, in which an Assyrian queen rampages through Victorian London. And in which we visit the future utopia made by The Fabian Society). 

By means of magic rings, they all end up in Narnia at the moment of its creation by Aslan. The vitality of the new world suggests a cure for his mother to Digory. I don’t suppose I need comment on the natural and pastoral elements of Narnia, but I would note that this is a protean Narnia. The multiple terrains and spirits of the Shintobox are not really in evidence. 

This said, what we do have to grapple with are talking animals. Uncle Andrew reacts badly to them. The various logics of the bulldogs, bears, badgers, elephants, &c for dealing with him has something of the spirits about it. They do not quite know how to deal with the old wretch properly and they are quite strong enough to deal with him as they choose. However, we are stepping quite far away from the mute-but-ferocious Geese of GG&G.

Uncle Andrew’s unreasoning panic aside, Digory and Polly are in something of a bind themselves. Apart from intruding uninvited on the birth of a world, they have brought the witch Jadis into Narnia. As noted, they are both courteous youths and jump at Aslan’s offer to make amends. This is to be accomplished by the retrieval of an apple from a tree.

They are dispatched to do this without arms or weapons – no talking leopard is sent to assist them, only the winged horse Fledge (who would not be out of place in the list of Pets). This causes a rapider pace of travel than GG&G I think suggests, but that the main piece of assistance they are given is transport and shelter seems quite suitable for GG&G – see the Useful Things and Magic Things.

Pin by Megan Sawall on FOR NARNIAAA illustrations!! | The ...
From the illustrations to TMN by Pauline Baynes. 
Another use for a winged horse. 

The Garden where Digory must retrieve the Apple is noted as ‘a place which was so obviously private. You could see at a glance that it belonged to someone else.’ I see no immediate parallel in GG&G, but the logic of personal significance and magic strikes me as appropriate. 

Digory’s confrontation with Jadis (who has eaten of the fruit and become somehow of Narnia) has something of the magical spirits in GG&G and would be a direct match with the ‘Scheme Queen’ of the (loosely sketched) religion. Her temptations, half-truths and (temporary) sweetness of manner are right for a manipulative spirit in GG&G. Digory has no chance to defeat her by force of arms, but defies her all the same. 

The conclusion of TMN cannot be compared too closely to an open-ended RPG like GG&G, but the ceremony and opportunity for the exercise of Courtesy are noteworthy. Digory’s mother is (of course) cured; his father is soon given the chance to return (for good) from India. 

I’ve focused on TMN (out of all the Chronicles of Narnia) for its lack of armed violence and brevity of adventure (no untold years spent as Kings and Queens of Narnia). Beyond that, the invocation of a sick parent was an obvious spur to direct me to TMN. I’m not sure that GG&G will take a particularly Lewisian path, but some elements of sylvan Narnia full of satyrs, nymphs and talking beasts seems apt for it.

5 comments:

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    1. Any excuse to talk about CS Lewis on this blog....and this is a fairly good excuse!

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  2. You make a good parallel between how GG&G has XP for food (derived from Ghibli) and mid-century British fiction, which often exhibits an exquisite love of food (e.g. Roald Dahl and Ian Fleming); most likely Miyazaki and his contemporaries in Japan had similar experiences with rationing after WWII.

    I once underwent a three month period of extensive exercise and weight loss, and I remember the limbic wonderland that my body and mind presented me with; I could have daydreamed about food for hours. Nothing in the world could be better than my grandmother's macaroni and cheese followed by her hot cherry cobbler with ice cream. Nothing could be better than a whole pizza, slices folded back over to thicken them in the bite. Nothing could be better than a dozen every-flavor donuts soaked in real coffee. Nothing could be better than a pound of deep fried chicken; I wanted to sit there with my nose in it just breathing until it was cool enough to eat. I even wanted to try sashimied raw steak. And then, when that period ended, the fantasies dissipated too, although their memory did not. Alas, not being in that state anymore, food couldn't live up to what was promised in lean times; it was delicious, but its charm returned to the baseline within a couple weeks. Hunger is truly the best season, just like the thought of a hot tub might annoy you when you're too hot, but becomes almost sacred when your limbs are freezing. I once read someone say that their first solid meal after cancer treatment was angel hair pasta without sauce, and it was the most delicious thing they'd ever tasted.

    Rationing must do that to you. I happen to actually like spam of all things and I sympathize with the older Korean generation's taste for the stuff. All that fat and salt right after occupation had to be like manna from heaven. It's very easy for us moderns to forget about food in the course of RPGs; even a treat is not exactly a treat.

    A good connection too between Uncle Andrew and tyrannical or out-of-control teachers at the time; chances are rationing coincided with a lot of brutalized men and bereaved women becoming authority figures in these children's lives.

    "Men like me, who possess hidden wisdom, are freed from common rules just as we are cut off from common pleasures. Ours is a high and lonely destiny." Positively Luciferian

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    1. There's a few historical recreation videos on Youtube that deal with survival foods for the trail (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CmRUxqxG7Q, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejrQlhH9RyQ, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCFS2amNPA8&feature=emb_title). The prospect of going from those unappetising mixes to a full cooked meal must have been heady.

      There's a description in When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit (a semi-autobiographical account of Jewish children leaving Nazi Germany) where they are excited by the possibility of having soft white rolls when arriving to safety. This never made sense to me when I first heard it as a child, but then I read years later about fine white flour as a luxury (notably in the North of England; see also Dr Johnson on Oats) and thought of tougher, hard breads and it clicked. This is a tough one for modern tastes, especially with industrial bakeries and sliced bread.

      A second-hand anecdote: My father talks of the early days of my parents' marriage. They were practically vegetarian for reasons of budget, but would get invited back home to my grandparents for a family meal - probably a roast of some description. They would eat their fill and then some, and have a good time. My father has described the sensation of so much meat and fat after months of smaller, leaner meals as being so heady as to resemble drunkenness.

      Curiously, the Quarians of the Mass Effect video games do something similar - going from living on the stretched resources of the migrant fleet's garden-ships to arriving at a planet and gorging themselves silly. It would not surprise me if a Mass Effect writer had undergone a similar experience in real life.

      "Positively Luciferian" Well, considering what else Lewis wrote....
      Uncle Andrew is either defanged or redeemed by the end, but he's a deeply unpleasant character.

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    2. I agree very much so about the bread; as a kid I'd hear about wheat bread being a food for the nobility and go "whoop de doo" but now having actually developed a taste for good bread I can imagine how decadent a big sop in milk might have been after a day's ride.
      Mm, interesting family story. I can imagine how meaningful those dinners must have been. The younger generation has inherited the form, but not the reason. We may love family dinners if good cooking is involved, but I can imagine many deeper layers of bonding and gratitude in the former scenario. That's a good scene to visualize so as to recreate it in a fictional context, as is the Quarian context; I could see sailors of all kinds sharing that mode of behavior.

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