The game centers on Aldea, the Forbidden Continent. Once home to an advanced human civilization, Aldea is rich in fertile land and natural resources. Ruined cities are common, and often full of technological and magical marvels. But Aldea is dangerous. War robots and immortal magical monsters still patrol the ruins, attacking anything that comes too near.
The Europe-like cultures come from Broadland, a continent whose many rivers and mountain ranges—and variety of bickering gods—supported sharp distinctions between cultures for thousands of years. Discoveries in Aldea have led to an industrial revolution in Broadland.
The other major known continent is Centramundi, home to the great kingdom of the same name. With long, shallow, easily navigable rivers, terrain conducive to high-output rice farming, and the protection of a single dominant god, Centramundi developed a single continent-spanning state which subjugated all competitors.
Ten thousand years ago, mankind had a single advanced civilization on the continent of Aldea.
(The legends all say "ten thousand." Now that they have access to Aldea, modern archaeologists are thinking it's probably two or three thousand. But time passes differently under the sacred barriers, so nobody is sure.)
But the gods went to war, using weapons of inconceivable might, and the continent was destroyed, and mankind was driven out to sea. The survivors landed on other continents—Broadland, Centramundi, and a few smaller islands—and founded new civilizations. The gods, chastened, resolved never again to fight directly, but to pursue their rivalry through the fortunes of their chosen peoples. And the father of the gods, Sunbreaker, placed sixteen inviolable shrines on Aldea, each projecting a holy barrier that would preserve the continent as an eternal gravestone to the folly of war. (People definitely kept having wars, but it's the thought that counts.)
Countries rose and fell, and gods rose to prominence and fell to ignominy with them. [i.e. if it's relevant, feel free to make up any history you want]
Today, Broadland is dominated by two great powers, Caledane and Venetonne. But these two powers hold each other in check, and many lesser countries thrive or at least survive, either as client states or as defensive coalitions.
One hundred years ago, the barriers on Aldea began to fall. Today, the eastern coast of Aldea is fully reclaimed by thriving chains of colonial cities under the administration of Caledane and Venetonne in the north, Centramundi in the south, and the Mercantile League of Telmeria wherever they managed to secure a favorable trade deal.
Very little comprehensible text has ever been found on Aldea. The legend is that "in the madness of the war, reason itself was slain." The ruins have text everywhere—but it's all gibberish, symbols that look like letters but correspond to no system, and follow no pattern. The leading theory is that one of the gods scrambled everything so that if humans ever did return to Aldea, they could not repeat the destruction.
Some text remains readable—simple signs indicating exits, entrances, whether to
push on a door or pull it. Numbers, such as prices or distance markers. Even in
these cases, most symbols are scrambled, but even one or two can act as a key to
understanding an entire area of the ancient world. The most precious of these
few readable remnants are markers of the behavior of ancient technology. Cryptic
inscriptions such as KPIO IN and +5 TLX, even on one or two devices, have
unlocked at least a rudimentary understanding of the ancient magic.
Even limited knowledge has fueled great technological progress in Broadland. Frequently, the mere existence of an artifact was enough to inspire an invention. Before Aldea began to open, Broadland and Centramundi had clockworks, gunpowder, small-scale steel production—all the precursors of an industrial revolution.
Broadland already had effective cannons, and the great castles of the past were all rubble or museums. But the firearms and ammunition discovered on Aldea led to a burst of innovation in small arms, and Broadland armies went from armored pikemen to uniformed riflemen in one bloody generation. There's a similar story about steam engines, railroads, steelworking, and so on. Steam and hydraulics to duplicate some of the behavior of magical circuitry. Stuff like that.
From our real-world perspective, you could say Aldea had about a 50s level of physical technology. No transistors, which means no microchips, no smartphones, etc. That's intentional—if they had microchips, it would be impossible for 19th-century tools to tinker with the ancient tech! But they supplemented their tech with magic, which expanded their abilities in other directions. Leaving the details vague so we can just come up with stuff.
In general, if it existed in 1800, assume it exists in this game. Don't be afraid to reach forward a bit and grab some magical stuff, but check with me first. Magical 1940s-level computer? Cool. Telegraph? No problem. Cellphones? Let's not.
Also, if something would be cool for a few people, but would break the game world if everyone had it, we can say that someone was able to repair an ancient item, but not create new ones.
The ancients evidently used magic as a commonplace tool. Countless magical devices have been uncovered. Lanterns that shine bright as day at the touch of a button. Tool-handles which project a cutting edge or a spinning screwdriver in ghostly blue. Small trinkets to cause a flame for lighting candles. In Aldea, these are luxury items, available to anyone with the cash for it.
And of course, there are weapons. Rare; but more common as one goes west. Guns firing heaven knows what, swords of burning light, wristbands that project a bullet-blocking forcefield. Aldea was a war zone in the final years of its destruction, and the weapons of that war remain.
All ancient devices are called arcana.
Someone who specializes in the study and repair of ancient devices is called an arcanasmith. In the east, where industry is dense, and in the west, where arcana are common, an arcanasmith is no harder to find than a watchmaker.
These devices all use power. Some are recharged by the light of the sun, some recharge over time by no means anyone can tell, but most take power cells of a few standard sizes. Cell chargers are common, but of course they used infrastructure long since destroyed. Most towns in Aldea have at least one charger jury-rigged by some arcanasmith to run off wind, water, horsepower, or steam.
The ancients also had a way to bestow magical powers on others. In the first days of exploration, a Caledanian mercenary found a small green orb of glowing frosted glass. Later, in a mishap, the orb broke, and as the man sifted through the shards, the green light clung to his fingertips and then faded. Shortly afterward, finding himself in need of a spark for his campfire, the mercenary found strange words on his tongue, and as he pronounced them, a flame leapt from his fingertips to the tinder.
These "spell eggs" have been found by the thousands in the years since. Most grant the use of minor magic, to ease everyday tasks: to run miles in a day without tiring, to heal small wounds, to clean a basket of shirts, to purify a cistern of water.
Some are much more powerful. Some few have stumbled across the ability to throw bolts of lightning, or cure deadly illnesses, or shape raw stone into castles. Do not be quick to envy them. The instant their powers are known, they face two choices: submit to one of the governments that will be eager to control them, or flee out of their reach.
The most fortunate of spellcasters have come across eggs somewhere in the middle—power enough to give an edge in life, but not enough to become a critical state asset.
Some people have chosen to dedicate their lives to the acquisition of spells, for one reason or another. It's not impossible to build up quite a suite of spells, by taking on debt, or having a wealthy patron, or dedicated egg-hunting in the ruins. Pretentious names like "sorceror" or "wizard" draw a polite chuckle, although of course a person with sufficient force of character might manage to fill out the role.
Tinfoil blocks the absorption of the spell, making it possible to transport eggs without wasting their power. Eggs granting minor powers are available in stores, though at a price far out of proportion to their utility.
It is entirely possible to "crack" an egg and never figure out what spell it granted. The magic comes at need, the first time, and can be recalled at will after that.
A few ruins hold magical machines which can create spell eggs; nicknamed "chicken coops," these machines are of the utmost magical importance. Caledane used a chicken coop to outfit a thousand soldiers with arcing fireball spells; Venetonne gave their own elites the power to project shields of ice; and so the balance of power wobbles onward, every side clutching at any advantage.
Even outside these "mage knights" of the elites, every modern military has "squad mages" who are equipped with a few key spells. It has become increasingly common to see them in private life, as retirees, deserters, or discharged. Unlike a rifle, a spell egg cannot be taken back.
Spell eggs are not color-coded. All eggs of the same exact type are the same color, but color is no guide otherwise, and two very different eggs may look identical. Arcanasmiths have found "egg readers" which display a dozen pages of information on any egg they put in the socket—but of course the text is no more comprehensible than anything else of the ancient world.
On the other hand, at least the same nonsense symbols appear for eggs of the same type. Researchers have built archives of known eggs and their powers.
A spellcaster can use a spell at will, and with no more thought than the impulse to do it. Think of it as opening your front door: you reach in your pocket, take out a key, put it in the lock, turn the key, and so on, but at no point do you have to concentrate on how exactly to kick off the operation, or what you should do at each step along the way.
On the other hand, if someone is trying to fistfight you, or if you're in the middle of a tornado, you might have a hard time managing the procedure. Spellcasting is no different.
Each spell is cast differently. Most involve words, long or short. Most involve gestures, simple or intricate. A very few involve neither, and the effect just happens.
In game terms, quick spells are easier to cast under pressure. Complex spells are harder, and might take more than one action. A spell with verbal components cannot be cast while mute; a spell with somatic components requires one or both hands free. As you can imagine, one-handed spells are prized.
Some eggs grant magic, but also inflict horrible deformities, diseases, or insanity. Anyone holding an untrusted egg risks his life. Whether the eggs are defective or simply misused is a topic of debate. Reckless seekers after magic—such as witches—risk their lives.
Without any intelligible books, the principles of magic are almost completely opaque. Everyone agrees that a spell is cast by pronouncing alien words and making certain gestures, but nobody can remember the details afterward, or even write them down in the moment. Sound-recording arcana only play static. If you try to repeat the exact words of a spell the instant you hear them, you simply can't: the sensation is like having a line of a poem on the tip of your tongue, without quite being able to recall it.
As a result, the state of magical research is a wasteland of philosophy and speculation. One leading theory is that magic is so unnatural to humanity that the mind is simply unable or unwilling to grasp it. A corollary to this theory is that if someone were to understand magic intellectually, instead of cracking a spell egg, insanity would result.
There are legends of an "Immaculate Grimoire" which escaped the great confusion. So far, only legends.
Pronounced 'kal-uh-DAYN'. Loosely modeled on Great Britain.
Caledane has existed in something kind of like its current form for 700 years. Before that, it was united with its rival Venetonne as a single kingdom, under the divine patronage of Antonius and Maravia. When that holy power couple split up, so did the countries.
The culture prides itself on pragmatism, determination, and a sort of classist egalitarianism that inspires commoners to support their wise and just nobles, while the nobles praise and reward the good works of the commoners. "A hardworking and ingenious farmer is as good as any duke, or better" is a sentiment often expressed, seldom acted upon.
The ongoing industrial revolution is putting the traditional aristocratic system in some danger, but for now, the aristocrats and their cronies have kept on top of things.
Beer, wheat, and beef are points of national pride, and Caledane is famous for wrapping virtually any ingredient in pastry and calling it a pie.
Caledane is known for its many small swift rivers and low mountain ranges, which complicate travel, but create many sheltered fertile valleys.
The capital city of Caledane is Blueport, a major center of commerce, finance, and culture. Often called the capital of the world. Port of departure for many ships sailing to Aldea.
Last names in Caledane tend to be based on locations, structures, or natural features. Highcastle, Cragmoor, Waterside, Blackholm, Ravensfield, Willowbrook, Farwell.
Divine patron of Caledane. Maravia represents war in all its forms: military conflict, of course, but more generally the act of competing against rivals for scarce resources, from international diplomacy to political discipline to the struggle for personal improvement. A concept this broad is easy to operationalize in the service of basically any human endeavor, and so the actions of the state of often seem to be at odds with a naive conception of "war."
Depiction in religious art: a beautiful but stern woman with a brooding watchfulness. Sometimes represented as a mother, usually as a warrior. Her armor and weapons change with the era. In modern times, she is often depicted wearing a general's hat and leading a cavalry charge.
Divine regalia: A halo whose rays of light are swords. Red and white cloth. Golden armor. A rose whose thorns draw blood. When she manifests, those small drops of blood are preserved as holy relics.
Holy symbols: A red teardrop, symbolizing blood. A golden sword, or a golden shield; or, lately, a golden firearm. Her priesthood can be recognized by a certain pattern of white with thin red stripes; it's as distinctive as a Catholic priest's collar.
Pronounced 'ven-uh-TAHN'. Loosely modeled on France and Spain.
The culture prides itself on elán, flair, and intuition. The nobility is obviously endowed with all three, and so their dominion is unquestioned. By them, at least.
Centuries of high-handed oppression, ranging from extractive taxation to actual slavery, have created a bubbling undercurrent of despair and rage among the peasantry. Four times in the last century alone, there have been armed rebellions in areas where the noble foot has trod most heavily. Fortunately, Venetonne is watched over by the God of Love, whose divine compassion and wisdom have always convinced the peasants to set aside their grievances and return peacefully to work.
Venetonne is a country of unbroken farmland dotted with forests which are carefully managed to be sustainable sources of firewood and game.
The capital city of Venetonne is Montaigne [yeah, after Michel de Montaigne, I just like that guy]. Called the "City of Song," it is a center of fine culture on the continent. The broad Sky River connects it to the seaport city of Marvasse.
Venetonne and Caledane are both stratified societies, with clear and unbridgeable gaps between rich and poor. In Venetonne, even surnames are divided by class.
Lower-class Venetonnians are named after their job, or a family profession: Weaver, Baker, Miller.
There's a "social middle class" who can claim a family history of military service or even minor noble blood. Many of them are just as poor as the lower class, but some are well-off, through business or as noble retainers. These families have heroic names like Lightfoot, Braveheart, Strongbow.
Actual nobility takes the name of their lands: "of Graveria," "of North Felton."
As in Caledane, the ongoing industrial revolution is undermining the social system, but for now, the powerful have captured their customary share of the profits.
Divine patron of Venetonne. Antonius represents love in all its forms: romantic love, of course, but also the love of a parent for a child, or a citizen for their country. A concept this broad is easy to operationalize in the service of basically any human endeavor, and so the actions of the state often seem to be at odds with a naive conception of "love."
Depiction in religious art: a beautiful young man, almost androgynous. Usually represented as a nobleman playing music or at the center of a celebration; sometimes shown a wise counselor to a king. In modern times, he is often depicted with recent inventions or discoveries.
Divine regalia: A silver implement adorned with a blue sapphire. Traditionally a scepter, but recently more modern implements have been observed: a pocketwatch, a conductor's wand, a fountain pen, even an umbrella. His priesthood is known for grand robes during services, and upper-class finery the rest of the time.
Holy symbols: The religion equates love with the vast and eternal sky, so a white circle on a blue field, or a blue circle on a white field, are both taken as symbols of Antonius. Likewise, any blue gem or stone, such as sapphire or lapis lazuli, usually in a silver setting.
Despite the Latinate name, loosely modeled on China. After all, it means "center of the world," just like China's traditional name of "middle kingdom."
Under the influence of Ammon, the God of Order, Centramundi has a powerful centralized government whose complex hierarchy is ruled by an absolute monarch, and ultimately by Ammon itself. Government positions are awarded to those who score well on a comprehensive examination. Centramundi has universal childhood education, and nearly 100% literacy, so although the well-off can hire tutors for their own children, the bureaucracy is a major engine of social mobility.
Although Centramundi emphasizes the rewards of education, this should not be confused for innovation. Conformity and adherence to procedure are highly prized, and creativity is seldom encouraged. In the years since the reopening of the Forbidden Continent, new technologies have been introduced to Broadland at a rapid rate. Ammon has granted its people knowledge of the same technologies, as quickly as they arrive, but the god's intent is to maintain parity, not to leapfrog the competition.
Divine patron of Centramundi. Ammon makes no claim to represent or embody order. Ammon simply enforces order. The rest of the world may do what it likes, but if Centramundi is to persist for eternity, it must have stability. Often associated with scholarship, discipline, and loyalty.
Depiction in religious art: Uniquely among the gods, Ammon is never depicted as any living creature. Instead, Ammon appears as a white rectangle or a rectangular prism which casts a piercing illumination on its surroundings. Religious texts studiously avoid using any gendered language to describe Ammon.
Holy symbols: Miniature examples of anything related to geometry or mathemtics. Protractor, calipers, compass, abacus, slide rule. Geometric shapes have picked up complex symbolism over the millennia, so people might wear a small gold circle, or triangle, in order to convey a host of cultural and political allegiances. Through the will of Ammon, these allegiances have never risen to the level of factionalism, but they are powerful forces in Centramundian society.
Centramundi is a very large nation that occupies its entire small continent. The land is broad and flat, with a few wide, slow, easily navigable rivers that greatly influenced its development patterns. Ideal for rice agriculture, Centramundi supports a comparatively higher population per square foot than Broadland, and in fact, rice exports to Broadland have become a significant business.
Its capital is the City of Heaven, at the mouth of the mighty River of Life, where it meets the sea. The emperor rules from the monolithic Tower of Heaven. The light of Ammon can be seen shining from its uppermost windows at night, when the emperor receives the god's wisdom.
Centramundi's elite warriors are the Scroll Knights, a society of warrior poets. Each Scroll Knight writes a sonnet to be read aloud in the case of their death in battle. Scroll Knight commanders write a sestina in honor of each battle. You get the idea.
Centramundi only had intermittent contact with the rest of the world before the opening of Aldea, and although the gods agreed to prevent linguistic drift after the War of Breaking, Centramundian first names sound strange to Broadland ears. [Not sure how yet. I'm open to suggestions.]
Centramundian surnames are based on animals: White Owl, Stalking Wolf, Old Ram.
There are other major powers in the world, but for now these are the three with the most developed presence on Aldea.
Often just called "The League," this coalition of traders and merchants is based in the small port country of Telmeria. Telmeria was a regional power for centuries, simply by its geographic location on the southern coast of Broadland, but with the opening of Aldea, Telmeria has gained global influence. The colonies of Caledane, Venetonne, and Centramundi were financed by the nobility or the crown—the merchants of Telmeria invented the joint-stock corporation. The other great powers tried to grab natural resources and plunder the ancient knowledge of the ruins—the merchants of Telmeria moved quickly to lay claim to strategic points on shipping routes.
Seeing the value of mutual defense and trade, the Telmeria corporations formed the League, and before long, they had merged into a single corporation in name and law. Wielding "the cannon and the coin as sword and shield," the League has been able to carve out a position of power in the gaps between the larger powers.
The League has no dedicated divine patron, but they pay great honor to Tara, the Goddess of Learning, and Anaxarchus, the God of Storms.
The eastern coast of the continent was the first to be colonized by the great powers. Caledane and Venetonne control the northeast; Centramundi controls the southeast. The colonies extend inland, but as you travel further west, central authority grows weaker.
For instance, along the coast, the colonial cities of Caledane and Venetonne are ruled by governors—noblemen, to be sure, but accountable to the crown. Further inland, provinces are ruled by noblemen who exercise a more personal form of power. And beyond those lands, noble estates grow more rare, and the wilderness more dangerous, and before long, power is to be found only at the end of a gun-barrel. Settlers, trappers, prospectors, and treasure hunters, all exist in an uneasy truce which lasts only as long as there is plenty for all.
The same pattern applies to the more southerly holdings of Centramundi, but for different reasons. "Heaven is wide, and the emperor is far away," says a common proverb. A minister of the state must obey the imperial edict: each sealed scroll represents the very will of Ammon. But these orders are broadly strategic, and the ministers are left to decide upon the details, with varying results; and of course, the difficulty of travel and communication makes it impossible to project the full weight of imperial authority out to the very frontier.
Centramundi built their Aldean colonies on the backs of the Lowlands tribes, a regional rival they had subjugated centuries ago. The Lowlanders in Centramundi were already oppressed, impoverished, and rightfully resentful; in Aldea, they were exploited even further, reduced from serfdom to slavery. They rebelled, successfully, and formed the independent nation of Exmundi. Caledane and Venetonne have found it to be in their interest to support Exmundi, and so the balance of power remains on a knife edge.
In Centramundi, the Lowlanders had long since been forced from the most fertile land and forced to subsist on the steppes as horse nomads. Not a lifestyle anyone would choose, but they developed a culture where every able-bodied soul had to be a herder, ranger, and warrior. Think of the various steppe nomads of northern Asia, notably the Mongols. On Centramundi, they were kept in check by the empire and its god, but on Aldea, they found themselves in a more favorable position—and were shielded from Ammon's attention by the protective hand of Amina, the Goddess of Rings.
As nomads with little love for cities, the Lowlanders of Exmundi have chosen to reclaim the traditional way of life which was long suppressed by Centramundi. Their new lands are much more fruitful than their historic ones, so many Lowlanders have become farmers or town-dwellers, but Exmundi has also parlayed their legendary riding and skirmishing talents into de facto control of most of the trade routes through the Midlands. By taking a percentage of all trade that passes through their extensive territory, and modifying that percentage to favor one interest or another, they have achieved economic and political power.
The Abacus Knights are the enforcement wing of Exmundi's trade regulations. While the Scroll Knights of Centramundi are warrior-poets, Exmundi's Abacus Knights mockingly call themselves warrior-accountants, whose duty is to make sure Exmundi extracts its fair share.
Divine patron to jewelers, harness-makers, wheelwrights, coopers, and anyone else with a keen interest in the creation of perfectly circular objects, including some geometers and cartographers. She has assisted Exmundi in finding independence from Centramundi, but declines to be considered their patron.
Depiction in religious art: A girl of no more than six, dressed in the everyday clothing of her local worshippers, floating in the air, framed by a large gold ring. She wears rings on each finger and toe, and great bunches of bracelets; and over her clothing there is always a harness whose straps are joined by rings. When depicted in armor, of course, it is always ring mail.
Holy symbols: A simple gold ring, unadorned; but she is a minor goddess, and this is a common form of decoration.