The Scuttled Ship… Finally

The first Lloegyr game, The Moorstepper on Lloegyr, was a "closed door" larp, meaning that it was designed to be played by a group of characters who couldn't leave the immediate area.  Typically, this involves being trapped in a room, and some sort of premise as to why you can't leave.  Rather than come up with a plot device, I came up with a tradition: important diplomatic discussions were held on a ship that had been scuttled upon a sandbar… and you couldn't leave until you came to an agreement.  Thus the concept of the Scuttled Ship was born.

The sequel to Moorstepper was also set on the Scuttled Ship, as well as the recent prequel game, Mournful Their Mood.  I have a special attachment to using it as a timing device, because the "way out" is through other characters, and you're not problem solving as much as racing against time (which is slightly unusual in convention games).  I'm especially excited to bring this to Ubi Sunt, as after 19 episodes, I wanted to do something very special… and the Scuttled Ship is one of the most special things in Lloegyr.

Why?  Because the meta-concept of the Scuttled Ship is that on the ship, every character is the hero of their own tale.  You have to be important to get on that ship, because space is at a premium and a very important decision is going to be made.  If you're at all political, you don't want to be off the ship, because that's where the most important political decisions are made.  The Scuttled Ship isn't about two important individuals arguing… it's about a mess of converging interests who have to be at the decision point.  Anyone with any stake in the matter of Lloegyr will be there.  Which probably includes your character… or someone your character cares about… or someone who cares about your character.

Why wouldn't you be there?  I've heard some concerns… why would a "Vincian/Kraki/Guth" be there?  Why not sink it?  Won't it just be full of magical events?

To answer your questions…

First, if you're not a Heorot or a Wahlan, you still probably have a stake in what happens.  This is going to determine the next few years, if not decades, of Lloegyr's history, and you can be certain that Guihelm Duke of Vincia, Olaf Olafson, and all those hidden players you've heard of will want someone on that boat.   So will the Faith of Arim, and the priestesses of the Dunmar-Gog, and probably a few others you might not expect.  I guarantee… if you're at all uncertain as to why you might be there… ask, and you shall receive a reason.

Second, it's relatively safe.  You might have thought "why not sink it?"  Of course, so did the Guth, over a century ago.  Remember, the ship is already sunk, and on a sandbar.  It's in the Bay of Bertha, which is adjacent to the neck and the full might of both the Aelic and Heorot people.  Most nobles will bring their guards with them to the shore, and since the days of Rand and Dannis, their navies.  While treachery is certainly possible by those on the ship… it would be quite a battle to attack it again.

And finally… will it be all magic?  No, far from it.  There will be… events, I am sure, because the Matter of Lloegyr is a mystical thing.  But it is first and foremost a political matter… the sum of decisions made by flawed and might people… and as such, politics will be at the core of the game.

The Royal Trust of Merovia

The Merov duchies have no king, but that is not to say they're not a kingdom.  The cultural similarities are quite strong (to the point that along the borders, dialects of Vincian and Cutanian and Naevarran and mutually intelligible), and the duchies could easily be brought under one banner, should any individual duke prove strong enough.  Of course, this is unlikely to ever happen, but there do exist various common structures, such as manorialism, that exist throughout Merovia.  And one of these is the Royal Trust of Merovia.

Technically, the Royal Trust would be called a pawn-brokerage in modern terms... it simply holds collateral in trust, and while doing so, may do with it as it may.  As such, it is also a rather sophisticated trade collective, as it offers secured loans throughout Arimdom, and then profits upon the sale of the collateral.  An ancient institution that is Tiberian in origin and dates to the earliest days of the Duchies, the Royal Trust of Merovia is perhaps the richest institution outside of the Church itself, and certainly more able to utilize its varied assets.  For while so much of the Faith's wealth is tied to the land, the Royal Trust is a rare institution that deals in trade goods and even (in the South at least) gold.

And in truth, there is nothing like it.  Although they have no extensive lands of their own, they have holdings, armies, ships, even serfs of sorts.  They exist in every court in Merovia, and their presence is felt throughout the north.  While little is known of them in Lloegyr (since the island does not possess a true market economy) they are quite powerful in Vincia, where they are sure not to create a costly rivalry with the Duke that might damage business.  Still, all who know them respect them: even the most traditional Heorot lord will eventually seek to trade for something he does not have, and when he does, he would do best if the Royal Trust had not noticed him.

Beyond the North, Revisited

I've touched on what's beyond the North before here, and I know Matt's visited Ravar in his tabletop game.  However, as I was recently outwitted by a player and may be forced to flesh out more of the world, I thought I might as well share it here, for the educated players to see.

As previously mentioned, there are established names and identities for both the Merov Duchies and the lands the Kraki have conquered.  The Merov Duchies of Cutane, Naever, and Burgen all have their own identities, and it might trouble some to note that in many ways, they're more Vincian than Vincia.  Additionally, the Hess, Tets, and Thars... all conquered by the Kraki... are somewhat similar to the Kraki (and thus the Heorots and the Guth, who are all cousins), as well as their Lorn neighbors.  To provide a little details on these places, beyond simple names...

• Cutane is the Duchy that borders the Protectorate of Timber, and is thus the most heavily influenced by the Faith (and probably the most advanced, technologically).  They're also the least centralized of the Merov Duchies, with the Duke of Cutane far weaker than his peers.
• If the Duke of Vincia rules through political manipulation, the Duke of Naevar rules through force.  His power is nearly absolute, and his court is a rigidly organized bureaucracy.  However, his power is curbed by the fact that Naevar is the smallest of the the Duchies.
• The largest Merov Duchy is Burgen, which is also the most influenced by their neighbors.  Burgen is, by Merov standards, barbaric (although this still makes them far more refined than the Heorots or Kraki) due to the influence of their Rav and Tet neighbors.  They are the largest and most populated of the Duchies.
• The Hess are a conquered people of the Kraki, and dwelt in a lowland forest close to Guthlund.  They were a very war-like people, with very little central organization, and although they fought fiercely, they were easily defeated in small numbers by Rolf over the course of two years.  
• The Tets were a people much like the Kraki, heavily influenced by their Merov neighbors, who conducted trade (and raids) along the rivers of the continent.  They were the first land to be conquered by Rolf, before he turned his eyes toward the County of Pendrose in Vincia.  After Castus' intervention, Rolf looked at his other neighbors.
• A mountain-folk, the Thars were intensely hard to subjugate, and the area was in a limited rebellion up until the day Rolf died.  Because of it's geography, the trouble Rolf had with the Thars prevented further conquests.
• Protected by narrow mountain passes and high altitude, the Lorn are an isolated and strange people, early converts to the Faith of Arim, and for some time an island in that Faith.  Dedicated to maintaining their homeland, the Lorn have perhaps the strongest cultural identity in the known world.

Having given some detail on these people, I feel a bit more comfortable teasing out the other major peoples of Arimdom... What must be known is that the greatest "nation" (an anachronistic concept used carefully) is certainly the Protectorate of the Patriarch, which is centered around Tiber.  To the West and South of the Protectorate, along the sea that defines the continent, there are a collection of cultures that all speak a dialect of Albers.  The Albersians are not a people but rather a group of people who practice a more advanced sort of feudalism, and are generally continually at war either with each other. Finally, there are the Rav, who control a very large territory but have a relatively small population density... largely as they are on the edge of civilization.  Beyond Rav is the forest primeval, where dark and strange things (perhaps even stranger than in Lloegyr) lie.

Agency and Perspective

I had a conversation with a player recently, about how fucked they are.  I actually have a lot of these conversations, because a lot of people feel like their characters are in grave and inescapable peril (and, well, they are), but this one in particular struck me... because the player didn't seem to accept it.  From that player's perspective, they have to power to save themselves.  Which is a great thing: except for the fact that they're probably wrong.

The reason they're wrong isn't because the storyteller is rail-roading them, or refusing to let their actions.  On the contrary, the storyteller is making sure their characters have agency, and determine the story.  The trick is that the actions that matter are the months of mistakes made in the past, when the character didn't realize what they were doing, and not a last ditch, quick fix effort to avoid the consequences.

Let's say you're a farmer, and also an adventurer.  In April, you go off to court to play at intrigues, and in May you go off to war.  In June, the voice of God (in the case of Lloegyr, me) mentions you should worry about your crops, and you spend a week or two in June tilling your fields.  Then you go off on a quest in July, and spend most of August with your friends in the next city over, and then in September, when I tell everyone "famine is coming" you spend another week or two in your fields.  When October hits, the crops are going to fail, because you didn't tend to them... and I'm going to show you ever single starving peasant I can to drive home your mistake.

The trick is that you don't know what you don't know... until it bites you.  Mistakes are made over time, and the fixes aren't easy or fast.  And sometimes it's too late.  And that's by design in Lloegyr, because it's the defeats that make the victories matter, and the victories that make the final tragedy of it matter.

I once said Lloegyr is about kicking down your sandcastles.  That's only partly true.  Sometimes, I see a puppy and I have to kill it.  But more often, I watch the tide slowly creep in, and keep you distracted with that really fun game of volleyball until the waves are upon it.  And then I point to the sand castle getting washed away, and focus on your attempts to save it after it's too late.  And the best part for me is that it's usually another player who's doing it to you.  All I have to do is place the emphasis.

Heorot Inheritance Traditions

A recent question by a player made me realize how far we've come... the question was about inheritance traditions in Heorot culture, and how it works.  I found this interesting, because the original political premise of the game was based on inheritance, so I knew exactly how it works.

First, there's one rule to remember with Heorot culture: there are no rules.  There's no rule of law, there's a tradition of Honor, which essentially amounts to "say what you do, and do what you say." (Okay, it's more complicated than that, but check out older entries on the blog for more).  That said, there's three very strongly held traditions of inheritance...

1. The parents' oldest son gets everything (and if there are no sons, then it would pass to the daughters).

2. A woman retains her property, but it is managed by her husband.

3. A woman cannot be an Earl, but may make her husband an Earl as long as they are married.

The first rule is interesting, because if I get remarried after having a son from a previous marriage, that son is entitled to everything from that marriage, but nothing from my current one.  That's because my marriage is a partnership... the dowery still belongs to my current wife, and anything we gained together is ours, not mine.  Further, if I marry an Earl's daughter, I might be an Earl... but only as long as we remain married.  

This can give rise to a number of gray areas, and those areas are very gray and undefined.  For example, Castus was King of the Heorots prior to his marriage to Jenevra, Queen of the Aels.  Through that marriage, he became King of all people of Lloegyr. His son, Draught, was entitled to his Heorot title, but not the title of all of Lloegyr, as Aelia was undisputably Ala's.  Hilarity ensues.

On the Tradition of Marriage in House Two Tower

House Two Tower has a very formal marriage arrangement, which was developed to promote the health of its heirs and secure alliances, while ensuring there are never significant rival claimants to any of its holdings.

Usually, all three Earls of House Two Tower (Lothan, Senton, and Kenton) were cousins of some degree.  Two of these earls would take wives outside the house, while one of them would enter an arranged marriage with one of his cousin's sisters.  For example, Codder, the last Earl of Senton, married Odette, while his first cousin, Walder, likewise married a woman from outside the House.  However, Oswulf, Codder's second cousin, married Ethel, Codder's older sister.

Truth, Justice and all Those Dumb Things

Something I've noticed about Lloegyr... Fundamental Attribution Error is in full swing, and I love it.  As characters get drawn into conflict, the players get into wars of words, and the rhetoric starts to fly.  Most of the time, players get drawn into their own IC justifications, believing what they're saying... and that's awesome.  Really... it's how real people work: we make up rational arguments to justify our feelings.  So if you really want to be king, you argue you would be the best king, and start believing it... because you want to be king.

But...

There's a slight problem with the rhetoric sometimes, and it causes people problems when dealing with NPCs.  It's when the rhetoric appeals to the modern Americans we are, and not the fictional Heorots and Aels and Vincians and Kraki we pretend to be.

There's a lot of people who are preaching "peace" to NPCs, and to think of the country (I stopped counting at ten PCs using this argument in the past week... so I'm not talking about you, I'm talking to everyone).  Telling a Heorot to work for peace is like telling your typical American to work for accurate and straight-forward food packaging... most will agree it's a good cause, but they just don't give a shit.  Telling an Ael to think of their country is like telling U.S. citizen to think about "North America..." no one gives a shit about their continent.  Peace and patriotism are more modern concerns, and your traditional Heorot cares about family and honor more than anything else.

I don't mind players having more modern values... I think it makes the game more tragic.  Just realize that making an argument for peace is like making an argument about calorie labels... even if you're right, the people you're talking to (i.e. the NPCs) might not care.