Mariners of Malmery - and The Rest of All Possible Worlds

 After vast Tsymric and bustling Datravia - we turn to Malmery.

This is the part of a setting I am now referring to as The Rest of All Possible Worlds, with the tag or strap White-Hot Sparks from the Crucible of the Enlightenment. The principle of interesting, varied equipment lists full of alternatives to leather remains a characteristic, but I intend the spirit of The Rest of All Possible Worlds to be about a continent (or continent-like culture grouping) on the verge of a magical Enlightenment - that is, an Enlightenment in the 18th century vein. 

Speak then, of Malmery. Of wind-swept isles and rugged sea-rovers - of peaceable glades and quiet inlets. Of merchants who smile at pirates and pirates who smile at merchants. Of rich seams and swift waterways. Of choleric Earls and vigilant elders. 

Malmery is the greatest of a string of islands in the western ocean fringes; there is nothing beyond them until you reach the Buccaneers' Archipelago or Bronzemount Free State in the west.  Malmery gave its name to the island chain as a whole, not that some of those inside Malmery would be swift to recognise the fact. 

Malmery itself is large enough to be divided into High and Low Malmery. The largest ports and widest fields are in Low Malmery, facing the mainland; the highest peaks and the old capital face the ocean. Trade is said to roll downhill. 

Knit together by the traffic of sailors, the other parts of Malmery shuttle in and out of the orbit of the Crown and Capital on an almost seasonal basis. The Malmeric appellate courts close and open almost with the tides. The nearest Earldom may be granite-cliffed Nhalark, north-most trade hub. After that, the lush pastures and neat townships of Glengallow.

Further north than Nhalark would be the low island of Laldiel - which has a reputation as a mere floating moor, anchored by one brief belt of hills. Western-most we meet the limestone flats of rainswept Tyrconoway.  Turning south, you will finally find the sunny, ore-rich Cerq and the long scattered curve of the Cerquae Isles.*

It is as true to say that every Malmeran is a sailor as it is to say that every Prizelander is a merchant. Which is to say, it is a lie, albeit a revealing one. Traditional Malmeric dress contributes to this - a Malmeran sailor would wear a length of rope on their person, even if they had plenty of other rope on their ship. In time it came about that a civilian mariner would wear a loop about the shoulder, from which a marlinspike could dangle; a fighting sailor would wear a longer, baldric like body-rope from which a sword or boarding axe could hang. 

This became known as the 'cordon' to distinguish it from other ropes or lines. Eventually, the practice spread to those who were not sailors, often carrying a flat pouch (sometimes called a musette) or working knife - and it became smart to have a clean, neat rope for 'Sunday' best. A gentleman was assumed to be capable of bearing arms, and thus would wear the long rope even if they had never taken up a military career. Even wealthy modernisers and followers of foreign fashions will have a cordon somewhere.

Thanks, Wikimedia.

Naturally, in scattered Malmery, there were local and familial variations. Rope or cord, which knots, the presence or absence of aglets, material of rope, colour of rope, which shoulder the rope hung on....you may be sure that in the present, a certain form of cordon has come into being with a full set of etiquettes attached to it. Dress beneath the cordon is not so standardised, but generally will have appropriate loops and pads to support and present the cordon.

There is a distinction between Aiguillettes, Forragère and Lanyards, but it is scarcely certain a Malmeran would recognise them. 

This process has been aided by a comparative lack of cattle and tanneries in Malmery - perhaps as a result of the terrain, perhaps as a result of plague. In addition to the cordon, therefore, a Malmeran will stereotypically have poor shoes: hardwearing hobnailed sandals or moccasin-like half-boots. 

To continue on food-ways: fish, as you may expect is widely eaten in Malmeric cuisine. Cider is more readily available than wine, and to the traditionalist, is more prized. Oats and buckwheat grow more readily in Malmery than wheat. Beefeater, incidentally, is not a phrase that would convey a sense of bucolic plenty in Malmery - rather, it might convey silver-spoon privilege.  

Malmery has lately endorsed theory and praxis of the Majestic Vision contrary to the continental schools. This, coupled with a few coinciding wars, has emphasised further the distance between Malmery and the mainland. Commerce raiding and prize-taking was preferred method of Malmeric campaigning, for no towns or forts could be reliably held on the mainland. Further internal disputes and civil wars have furnished a diaspora of Melmerans who supported the fallen Ascendancy serving as mercenaries, military advisors and privateers across the continent. 

Thus, in the popular drama of overseas the Malmeran of low farce is a bearded ruffian in strange clothes, obsessed by shoes and knowing little of food beyond the dish of herring fried in oatmeal. The Malmeran of comedy is a good-hearted swaggering bluff rustic (often the friend or servant of the male lead); the Malmeran of romance is a wild, dashing sea-captain willing to seize what he sets his heart upon; the Malmeran of tragedy is a stern, masterful man, courageous and abstemious though reckless and unsocial. 

***

1. Sailmaker /// Thick needles, Reel of heavy waxed thread, Sailmaker's palm, Canvas Offcuts (one fitted to wear as a waterproof cloak).
2. Returned Mercenary /// Fusil, Powder and Shot, Large well-made well-worn leather boots, Fascine knife, Commemorative medal depicting a recently-defeated Prince. Optional: [Hair cut and dressed in the Continental Style: +1 CHA in right conditions, lasts 1d3 months.]
3. Tin Miner /// Pick, Auger, Stiff hat with candle-stubs, Thick-crusted pasty, Ease of movement in low-light conditions. 
4. Fishmonger /// Several filleting knives and sharpening stone, Robust apron, Heavily stained basket, Nosegay (protects against foul air, two uses). 
5. Privateer /// Basket-hilted cutlass, 1d3+1 flags, Letter of Marque (in robust pouch), Plundered commodity (spices, tea, tobacco, &c).
6. Student Advocate /// Sober robes (second-hand), Bundle of legal briefs, Nightwatchman who owes you a favour, Tickets to an Oratorio, Ring that looks like a ruby.
7. Mage Navigator /// Telescope, Enchanted automatic log-line (respools at will, counts with bell-chimes the number of knots), Book of tide-tables (incomplete), Sounding line.
8. Thane /// Bottle buckwheat eau-de-vie, Outdated large-hilted sword, Brightly coloured bonnet with distinctive hackle, Elaborate clan-colours cordon.
9. Island Shepherd /// Crook, Long axe-blade (attach to crook to make a lochaber), Warm woollen coat (works even when damp), Shears, Horn box of snuff.
10. Wizarding Matross /// Witch-fire linstock, Sympathetic bearings in reinforced glass tube (can be used to subtly change motion of projectile), Set of ballistic tables, Windsock. 

*Some sentimental cartographers take this to be in the shape of a wing.

The Hobbesian Theory of Tabletop War Games

This is me laying claim to and expanding upon an old comment over at Monsters and Manuals. That was on a Clauswitzian look at Warhammer 40,000 (hereafter 40k). 

Anyway, here is the relevant text of the comment:

I have recently come to consider 40k as in some sense fuelling a 'Hobbesian' theory of tabletop wargames in a fictional setting: of a war of all against all.
To be more precise: every faction should have a reason in the background to fight every other faction AND to fight amongst themselves.

(To make it clear: the Imperium's internal struggles are perhaps only matched by their external ones, Chaos is self-explanatory on this point, as are the Orks, the Eldar probably don't want to kill one another on an ideological level but are so arrogant and splintered that they might well end up doing so, the Dark Eldar are backstabbers to a man, the Tau are very much unified - with one important exception that allows for the rule to stand, the Tyranids will feed on each other as much as on others and the Necrons have come out of stasis with all their old grudges intact.) [I believe this also stands for the former Warhammer Fantasy; Age of Sigmar perhaps not.]

Why should this be? Well, it allows for the maximum amount of in-person play, not needing any specific faction to have a game. Granted, it's going to look odd if one company of Ultramarines fight another company, but hardly unprecedented. 

What we do we mean by Hobbesian? Well, Thomas Hobbes (of Malmsbury) was a 17th century English philosopher, best known for Leviathan - an account of political structures and social contract theory with an amazing cover. 

Thank you, Wikipedia.

Hobbes was notorious in his time* - more, I would suggest, for the methods used in his account of political society than his actual conclusions (see here for Ada Palmer's account of this). Of course, he wasn't a libertine or atheist like Rochester (at least, not of the kind of unbelief we would readily recognise). Hobbes doesn't end up by coming out in favour of direct democracy or a workers' cooperative; in as much as Leviathan may be called prescriptive rather than descriptive, it suggests something close to the absolutism of the 17th century, with some caveats. 

The enduring image of Hobbes is in Part One of Leviathan, depicting a vision of mankind without government; this is then used to build up the parts of a Christian Commonwealth. 

Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of war, where every man is enemy to every man, the same consequent to the time wherein men live without other security than what their own strength and their own invention shall furnish them withal. In such condition, there is no place for industry; because the fruit thereof is uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of moving, and removing, such things as require much force; no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.

Leviathan, Part One, Ch XIII, 9 

It's a pessimistic view of the 'state of nature' (I believe this term is coined by John Locke. Hobbes refers to 'the natural condition of mankind'), but an enduring one. Hobbesian, therefore, refers to this imagined state of constant struggle, or a state of being much like it. This definition is, certainly, not as partial and derogatory as when we use Machiavellian to refer to sinister conspirators, but is still incomplete.

***

So, then, to the Tabletop. Let us consider three categories of war game settings.

First, war games set in real-world history, or something very like it. Players refight the Battle of Marathon, or the Corunna Campaign, or the Russo-Japanese War - or even something smaller and less formal, like the Gunfight at the OK Corral or the Siege of Sidney Street (stretching the definition of 'War', I know - but I imagine a war game should include the possibility of portraying insurgencies and non-state actors). We might include counterfactuals on this list as well - IE, a hypothetical Seige of Washington DC after a Confederate victory at Gettysburg. 

Team Yankee, which deals with the Cold War breaking out into open conflict using conventional weapons, like Tom Clancy's novel Red Storm Rising, would count here. It is imagining a third world war fought with the expected weapons and alliances of the 1980s; even if the imagined conflict is driving military innovation, we don't see brand new models of tank on the battlefield, still less NATO laser artillery and Soviet airships. 

At any rate, this first sort of war game is not really Hobbesian. The Austro-Hungarian Empire won't betray Germany at the drop of a hat in 1916; there are expected alignments and relationships. 

Second, we may refer to war games set in pre-existing fictional settings. The Middle-Earth Strategy Battle Game (once The Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game known to my youth) sorts its factions into Good and Evil very neatly (a game based on The Silmarillion might do differently, given that history of rash oaths, treachery and kin-slaying, but the Strategy Battle Game as given is pretty firmly wedged in the Third Age of Middle-Earth). Star Wars miniature games seem to largely do likewise - it would be a strange Star Wars piece of media that portrayed the Rebel Alliance breaking down into sectarian violence. 

Even if we are were to imagine a war game based on a property without Black Hats and White Hats, the notion that factions and characters stick to their canonical allegiances and motivations shines through. Even A Song of Ice and Fire (adapted for television as A Game of Thrones), in its war game (A Song of Ice and Fire Tabletop Miniatures Game) portrays House Tully and House Tyrell as integral parts of the forces of House Stark and Baratheon, respectively. This despite them both being great houses and nominal equals in their own right - and despite the oft-Hobbesian tone of the battles and intrigues of ASoIaF. In my survey of the above website, I think you could assemble an independent Tully/Mercenary force that adhered to the rules as given- but I don't know how competitive it would be.

Anyway, this second type of war game appears to be rarely Hobbesian. So you'll guess that the Third category (of three) will be the Hobbesian one. And you'd be right.

The Third category is, then, those war games set in an original setting designed for the sake of the game (or, potentially, for a universe conceived from the beginning to work in a variety of media). Again, 'Every faction should have a reason in the background to fight every other faction AND to fight amongst themselves.' I've laid out how 40k meets the conditions above**; Warhammer Fantasy as was meets them as well, more or less.

[Ahem: The Empire and Bretonnia are divided feudal polities very ready to do battle over honour or religion; Chaos Warriors, Daemons, and Beastmen are self explanatory, as are Orks and Goblins; the Skaven's internal competition is rabid; Ogre Kingdoms are like the Skaven but boisterous instead of manic; Dwarfs will go to war over five unpaid farthings; Vampire Counts are haughty, self-absorbed and competitive; the Tomb Kings have risen from the sands with all their pride and grudges intact; Dark Elves are malevolence personified, quite ready to betray one another; Wood Elves have a streak of fey wildness to them that would give rise to conflict - and at least one elf-hating Dryad; High Elves are comparatively harmonious and well-adjusted - but are collectively proud and arrogant, to say nothing of somewhat isolationist; Lizardmen may argue over the ruins of the Great Plan, and there are those beyond Lustria and the guidance of the Slann]

Well, so much for Warhammer, great overwhelming monolith that it is. What of other Third-category war games?

Consider Conquest: The Last Argument of Kings, by Para Bellum (an illustration for which is below).

As found here.
I feel that this style of fantasy illustration - lush, painterly, deeply coloured, detailed without the glossy primped look that characterises some artwork - is something I've seen quite a bit of lately (think Karla Ortiz's cover to Sorcerer of the Wildeeps and some of the art for 28). I wish I had a good name for it. 

As a survey of the setting's lore suggests, they fit the Hobbesian mould pretty well. A shattered empire of A Hundred Kingdoms, the cruel biotech-wielding precursors of the Spires, savage and potent outland raiders, wrath-corrupted delvers - and each with it's own set of sub-factions, providing not only unit variety but also competing forces.

As found here. Another example of the unnamed style.

So much for Conquest. And you might say that this follows too close to Games Workshop to really count - compare Warhammer's Empire with the Hundred Kingdoms, or 40k's (Dark) Eldar with the Spires. Let's pick out a few more examples. 

A Very British Civil War is an alternate history - a counterfactual in the same vein as Team Yankee above. There are some relatively outlandish or eccentric forces, but nobody appears to have taken up a form of technology beyond the 1930s. The background is that the Abdication Crisis of 1936 has resulted in constitutional turmoil and finally civil war. Fascists, Socialists, Edward VIII-loyalists, Anglicans, Scotch nationalists and more compete for rule of Great Britain (games in the Empire are possible, but out of focus; foreign intervention is present in the form of volunteers and aid rather than armies).

Now, obviously, this differs from a fantasy setting, or the far-off 41st millennium. There's also a difference in tone - consider the illustrations, miniatures made or suggested for the game and the presentation and discussion of VBCW. Grimdark it ain't.  If there is a single inspiration for it, it would be the 1995 film adaptation of Richard III*** set in an alternate 1930s - a part of the mannered, artificial (in the sense of 'crafted') text of Shakespeare's history plays carries over. Of course, the tone could be skewed more towards the realities of the (comparable) Spanish Civil War. But the default has the relative lightness suggested above. 

Grimdark or not, it fits: every faction should have a reason in the background to fight every other faction AND to fight amongst themselves. It is a time of civil war - brother is already fighting brother (literally, given Edward and Albert....)  - so further shifting allegiances are to be expected. Further, given how isolated and cut off some of these forces may be, it should not surprise us that one Royalist regiment might find itself attacking another. 

One more. Infinity by Corvus Belli lays out a science fiction setting; colonised star systems, new frontiers, exciting and powerful technologies. The inspiration of Infinity lies in an inter-connected, Information Age world, full of smooth, colourful stylings and with a primarily Asian derived group of interstellar factions (it even has its own manga). The battles depicted are 'secret missions, black ops and covert actions' rather than grinding trench warfare or frenetic melee combat. It is distinct, therefore, from the decay, zealotry, Gothic architecture and gloom of 40k .... despite the power-armoured religious military orders.

None of this makes Infinity a pleasant future to consider, per se. There is an extra-terrestrial threat, rebellion and the sleek outlines of postcyberpunk futures may well conceal pain and suffering. But again it fits the Hobbesian requirements for a world of wetwork and realpolitik. Sub-factions ('sectorials') once again abound - as to be expected in interplanetary polities. Left hand may not know what the right hand is doing (or know and dislike it intensely, or think it knows, or feels it needs to find out just in case....)

***

Assuming, therefore, that you are with me as far as this division of war games and my conclusions about their Hobbesian nature goes, why does this matter? I would suggest that this is a rule that appears obvious once you know it, informing the structure of war games without it being explicit and that it is a useful tool if one is debating the aesthetics and lore (and their implications) of war games in that third category. There will be a tendency to the Grimdark, at the very least. 

Compare this to the origins of the Horus Heresy. Now a novel series of over fifty books, some of them bestsellers (as well as audio dramas, miniatures, artwork, reams of online discussion &c) - and it all came about because of the cost of making new moulds for miniatures****. The Hobbesian theory lurks in the foundations of war gaming in just the same manner. 

Is any of the above consciously noted by war game designers? I wouldn't like to say. Does it matter? Once a given war game is popular enough that plenty of people play it and the number of factions and sub-factions swell, the need for a Hobbesian world abates. (You might be able to say this for Games Workshop's Age of Sigmar. I'm not sure I care to do so here - I don't know enough.) Besides, this only really counts for impromptu games. Tournaments will presumably try to organise things that the Armageddon Steel Legion player won't have to fight other Armageddon Steel Legion (or other Guard regiments, or the forces of the Imperium). This goes doubly so for grand international event campaigns - which works for in-universe explanations; even the most hot-headed or scheming of Imperial commanders know this really isn't the time.

Yet, a note of the Hobbesian persists - in lore, in rules, in structures. Like evolutionary advantages that make more sense for the Savannah, but still persist despite life in (say) 1986 Vancouver. I assert that an understanding of a war game of the Third category and the materials that develop from it is improved by at least considering the Hobbesian theory.

*And I imagine that any present-day politician that cited Hobbes as an influence or inspiration would catch a fair amount of flak for their trouble.

**I left out sub-factions &c, but even tightly-knit compact factions like the Adeptus Custodes have institutions like the Blood Games. Exodites are sufficiently clannish to clash with one another; Harlequins would do it for the art. Genestealer Cults, as criminal/insurrectionary organisations would certainly jostle with one another - and, quite possibly, their Tyranid puppeteers. 

***Suffering catfish, that trailer - no wonder they changed it for the rerelease!

****(VW Talos, 'Crafting the Imperium's Greatest Heel-Face Turn', 28, Vol. 2, February 2020 pp 96-103)

The Monastery on the Sword: Part Three

First, a few things to mention:

Apologies for a month or so's absence. Things got away from me - and I had to devote a little time to back up the contents of this blog (it comes to over 150,000 words!).

During this time, there has been a massive spike in views, largely from Sweden. I'm not sure why this should be, but Swedish readers are, naturally, very welcome. 

Also, a recent entry - Tsoldiers of Tsymric, which is part of the ongoing 'Fantastical Enlightenment' material I've been putting together.  Other popular posts are reviews or based on something more famous - so why one of my setting posts should be so attractive is beyond me. Perhaps it is some sort of code?

Readers may also wish to take a look at the recent Kickstarter from Patrick Stewart of False Machine: Demon Bone Sarcophagus. There is also the first instalment of David McGrogan's Fixed World to consider.

Signals boosted; bulletins announced. We return to the usual content.

This is the - much delayed - capstone (figuratively and something like literally) to an older project of mine, set within Terrae Vertebrae. Here are the first two parts: One, Two.

We look now to the top of the Sword, as detailed in entry No. 3 in Part Two. The Abbot and several monks live at the top of the sword, lowering baskets for supplies, waste disposal and the occasional visitor - as well as to accept deposits. Several gantries are laced with rigging, offering a place for the favoured monks to make their devotions and for the storage of some few necessities. The Abbot is given a favoured spot, in the shape of an open pavilion on the very pommel. 

The height of the monastery means that newcomers are at a constant disadvantage from the height and winds. Vertigo will not only through off a swordsman's blow, but also a spellcaster's charms. 

In the map below - 

Black indicates the outline of the sword.

Red the timbers and platforms around it.

Green certain mechanisms.

Blue ropes and rigging.

Orange the hollowed-out vault in the hilt, as well as the Abbot's pavilion. 

1. Spare coils of rope for the winches at 9 and 13, and for the scouring mechanisms.
2. The shaft of the sword. Nigh-on impossible to climb.
3. The storage platform - access to 4 and 1 from here.
4. Thick, abrasive scouring pads hang here, to be used to clean the shaft of the sword. 
5. 5 and 8 are sides of the access platform. People and items raised up from the ground are received here, and other utilitarian functions performed. 
6. The cross-guard of the sword. Ancient, solid wood, pitted with monkish scrimshaw. 
7. A treadwheel here can used to raise baskets from the ground or drag scouring pads. It is powered by Patience the mule. Patience works harder than you. Patience deals with heights better than you. Patience might fundamentally just be a better person than you are. 
8. 5 and 8 are sides of the access platform. People and items raised up from the ground are received here, and other utilitarian functions performed. 
9. A wheel here guides a line dropping down to the ground. It can either be powered by a counterweight at 13, or by the treadwheel at 7.  
10. 10 and 12 are sides of the widest platform. In so much as the monks assemble with their brethren on the ground, they do it here. 
11. Two extended beacons are set here, together with flammable materials. These are the most obvious emergency signalling system on the hilt.
12. 10 and 12 are sides of the widest platform. In so much as the monks assemble with their brethren on the ground, they do it here. 
13. A wheel here guides a line dropping down to the ground. It can either be powered by a counterweight at 9, or by the treadwheel at 7.  
14. Prayer platforms extend from either side of the hilt at 14 and 16. At 14, a bore-hole four inches in diameter leads into the vault as a deposit slot (one of the monks has a staff with an appropriate scoop at the top). 
15. Here lies the main vault, carved into the hilt over generations. The treasures stored here are far from mundane - this is not a bank, being too far from most merchants. It is the rare, the dangerous or certain last-resort stashes that you find in the numerous cubby holes and niches of the vault. 
16. Prayer platforms extend from either side of the hilt at 14 and 16.
17. The pommel of the sword. 
18. The Abbot's Pavilion. The entrance to the vault is here.

Occupants of the Hilt: 1d6+2 monks, the Abbot, Patience the Mule.

The monks and Abbot can be treated as low-level and higher-level clerics/Prophets. They carry no weapons as such, but many long iron-bound poles used to assist with the winches or the business of scouring.

All occupants of the hilt do no suffer from the adverse conditions caused from height, exposure, &c.

The monks spend their time at 5, 8, 10, 12, 14 and 16. 3 is not regarded as a place for regular use - like a  cellar. 

The monks consider themselves less a religious community than a 'conglomeration of hermits' - a little like the real-world Carthusians. Individual tasks, prayer and contemplation are more frequent than mass worship.