The game concept is driven by 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 other continents are home to civilizations loosely modeled on our world circa 1800. For the last fifty years, Aldea has been settled by colonists from the two nearest continents.
The engine which drives the game world is the steady exploration and exploitation of the Forbidden Continent, as more and more regions lose their protective forcefields.
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. (Loosely based on colonial competition between England, France, and Spain in 1600 through 1850.)
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. (Loosely based on China, which obviously never colonized North America, but we're basically asking the question "what if China colonized Louisiana at the same time England colonized Boston?")
As magic, science, treasures, and natural resources flow from Aldea to the civilized world, and the great powers compete for dominance in the new sphere, the social and political fabric of the world is tearing at the seams.
These are just some ideas:
- Explore the West: action-adventure focused on exploring ancient ruins and confronting the dangers within. Very much in the Indiana Jones bent, but with admixtures of Wild West, colonial/revolutionary era settler narrative, and great-power competition
- The King of the City: pulp drama focused on navigating the tensions of the rapidly evolving cities of the eastern coast. Amid the ruins of the ancient megacities, a new type of economy and civilization are emerging from the union of 1800s and high-tech/high-magic technologies. The great powers are competing against each other and against nascent revolutionary political currents. Great place to make your fortune... or lose your life.
- Glory to the Red Eagle and/or Golden Sun: Military action-adventure. As agents of Caledane (or Venetonne), work as a special unit to stymy the dastardly plans of those imperialistic wretches from Venetonne (or Caledane). Strike behind enemy lines, race to recover artifacts from ruins before the other guys, even participate in pitched battles against rival armies, techno-magical monsters, or rival armies using techno-magical monsters.
- The Throne and the Sword: as nobles back in Broadland, navigate the rapidly shifting landscape to try to preserve your privileges, or find a soft landing in the capitalist reckoning, or change the fate of nations, while stabbing your rivals on their way down.
- Unveil the Secrets: as nobles or scholars in Broadland (or the East or even West of Aldea), you are members of a secret society that knows Unspeakable Truths about the nature of reality and even about the gods themselves. The rediscovery of the Forbidden Continent is your long-promised chance to break chains that most cannot even see.
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. The continent was destroyed, and mankind was driven out to sea. The survivors landed on other continents, 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, Sunmaker, 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. [Very loosely, think of Caledane as an England equivalent, and think of Venetonne as an amalgam of France, Italy, and Spain.] 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.
Fifty 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.
Aldea was clearly a literate world. Text is everywhere: chipped paint on the sides of buildings, glowing sigils on magical sheets of glass, stamped imprints on ancient metal machines, even books, plain ink on paper, that were preserved in safes or sealed buildings. By the will of the gods, the language spoken by humans has not changed since humanity was exiled from Aldea. A wanderer in one of Aldea's ruined cities can read noodle shop menus, advertisements for moving image stories, office directories, street signs. A scholar can read light novels where miracles are the stuff of everyday life, but human concerns are the same as ever.
But wherever the text would have described useful details of the ancient magical technology of Aldea, there are only solid black rectangles, as if a cosmic hand drew a geometrically perfect paintbrush over every line. The legends say, "in the madness of the war, reason itself was slain." The leading theory is that one of the gods concealed all knowledge, so that if humans ever did return to Aldea, they could not repeat the destruction. These black bars are jokingly called "god script."
A commonplace invention in Aldea is the viewing glass. On command, these black glass sheets would come alive with images, like a glass slide in a lightbox, but these images would move and speak. Some viewing glasses show plays, which have been an invaluable window into Aldean life; some appear to be tools, the equivalent of an accountant's ledger or a shipmaster's weather station. Most are broken. But of those which still exist, unsurprisingly, the glass goes black and the sound goes dead whenever a magical secret is discussed.
As a result, mankind has been forced to decipher the ruins alone. Everywhere in Aldea, there are remnants of a world where the miraculous was commonplace, from ruined factories to everyday objects. 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.
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, there's probably one or two in the world. Telegraph? No problem, because there's a big infrastructure investment, cables can be laid and cut, etc. Cellphones? Let's not.
Following is a list of technologies which were created after 1800, which are available in this game world:
- The germ theory of disease
- Penicillin
- Telegraph
Technologies I would prefer not to include:
- Repeating firearms
- Aircraft (other than hot air balloons and simple gliders)
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. So there could be dozens or hundreds of rapid-fire laser rifles out there, but "dozens or hundreds" isn't enough to revolutionize warfare. There could be five or six working hovercraft, but they're all used by kings or whatever.
The ancients evidently used magic as a commonplace tool. They created countless devices which combine clockworks, hydraulics, and magical circuitry. These devices are called arcanatech.
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.
Most of these devices have no external controls. Even simple devices, like guns, swords, or powered armor, may require a special command to activate. The ancients had something called an "interface", a complex jeweled apparatus which was evidently implanted directly into the brain (yes, you read that right). The interface allowed the ancients to control their devices with a mere gesture or word. Modern scholars have managed to build crude approximations of these interfaces, handheld devices which can control arcanatech. But the modern interfaces are unwieldy, slow and difficult to use, and calibrating an interface to control an unknown device is a feat for an expert.
The Arcana skill governs how well a character can use an interface. This is an intense mental exercise. Imagine using a graphing calculator with no prior knowledge, with a room full of people shouting at you for the answer.
[This skill replaces Electronics in the Savage Worlds skill list.]
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 ancient texts have brought new uses for common words: everyone knows what it means to "plug the power cable into the generator", even if the world's greatest minds still argue about what these things are and how they work.
Casting a spell is difficult. Learning a spell is harder.
Some people can cast spells. The talent runs in families. You can learn spells from a teacher if you're rich and talented, or you can find spellbooks in the ruins if you're brave and lucky.
If you write a spell down, it looks like a complicated diagram of little symbols connected by squiggly lines. Smart people like to have framed diagrams on their walls to show how educated they are.
Spells are dangerous. Some spells give you horrible deformities if you get them wrong. Some give you horrible deformities even if you get them right. Don't mess with magic.
Most spells are useful for everyday tasks. Combat spells are rare. But the big nations are starting to add "mage knights" to their armies.
[If your character isn't going to care about magic beyond this level, feel free to skip.]
A spell consists of three components: a diagram made of glyphs, connected by impulses.
A glyph is a symbol, but like a Tarot card, it is more than just an image. Every glyph has a visual aspect, a symbol which can be written down or a shape which can be sculpted; but is also has an essence, a sort of metaphysical flavor.
An impulse is an energy which passes from one glyph to another. A transformation, or an argument, or a refutation. An impulse is "performed" by speaking a word, or making a gesture, or sometimes simply by thinking about it; but every impulse also has an essence which must be understood.
A diagram is a collection of symbols connected by impulses. A spellcaster must envision the diagram, with all its glyphs and essences, and then perform the impulses acting in the sequence described by the connecting lines.
Essences and impulses cannot be adequately described in human language. A spell cannot be "taught" to a complete beginner. Someone who already knows some glyphs and impulses can learn a different spell which uses the same components! And related spells often do use the same components, and are considered "schools" of magic.
A practiced 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, or if you're under time pressure, you might have a hard time managing the procedure. Spellcasting is no different.
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.
Essences can only be learned by direct transmission into the brain. You might listen to a piece of music from an ancient machine. Look deep into a shifting color pattern in a viewing glass. Sleep for a night at the top of a chrome tower which was built on the floor of a great canyon, and wake during a nightmare. The essence is painted on the inside of your skull. You can recall it at will.
A single artifact which teaches a full spell, diagram, essences, and all, is called a "grimoire."
Diagrams do not have essences, but glyphs and impulses do. Sometimes a trove of grimoires is found in some ancient hall of learning. Sometimes an essence is found resting on a pedestal in an ancient tomb, or clutched in a skeletal hand in a mass grave. The diagram for the spell which sank the HMS Logos was found as a decoration on a shirt in an ancient clothing store. One legendary grimoire was found embedded in the ribcage of an unfortunate spellcaster who was encased in cement in a metal barrel and left at the bottom of a lake.
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 scavenging in the ruins. Pretentious names like "sorceror" or "wizard" draw a polite chuckle if they are not well-earned.
Some inflict horrible deformities, diseases, or insanity. Anyone casting an untrusted spell risks his life. Whether the spells are defective or simply misused is a topic of debate. Reckless magic-seekers are distrusted. Fear of witches used to be superstition. Those who have claimed the name in recent years are well worthy of their reputation.
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This is a world of gods. Some gods are concerned with the affairs of man, and rule over countries, directly or from afar. Some gods ignore mankind entirely, pursuing their own interests, obeying their own logic. Some gods are mighty, with the power to raise mountains and cause storms. Some gods are humble, with the power to reweave a ripped scarf or banish insects from a sack of grain. Some gods live in their own realm, seldom appearing in the mortal world. Some gods live in the flesh, side by side with their worshippers, sharing meals, dancing at festivals, and even working the fields.
Gods can gain power over time, or lose it. Not all gods wish to be worshipped. The only trait shared by all gods is immortality, and even that immortality is limited: gods can be slain, if only by other gods and only by titanic efforts. And sometimes, gods have chosen to give up their immortality and die.
After the War of the Gods drove humanity away from the Forbidden Continent, the gods made a pact: human advancement would henceforth be a thing of humans. The gods could guide them in moral development, aid them with miracles, even govern them directly, but could never share the magical secrets which caused the downfall of mankind.
Feel free to make up more.
Anaxarchus, God of Storms: A vast face seen in a stormbank. The shape of a fist, burned into the ground after a lightning strike. A wistful sigh that comes from the heart of a rainbow after a squall. Anaxarchus has a priesthood, but grants them no miracles. Sailors pray to him, but he never answers.
Tara, Goddess of Learning: The ruler of the Infinite Library, currently in northwest Venetonne. In its endless halls and galleries, her library holds a copy of every book that will ever be written, but those who go in search of secrets seldom find their way back out. Wiser to learn at Tara's feet. She shared only the knowledge of the day, for the Divine Pact requires that mankind work hard for its own advancement. But the goddess is always present, in the flesh, ever wakeful, endlessly reading, writing, or teaching.
Aht, God of Stones: His limbs limbs are pillars, his body is a dolmen, his head is a rough-hewn cube of granite. He has no face, only weathered stone. He trudges slowly along the valleys between the Fallen Star Mountains in the southern Midlands, bearing on his back a boulder the size of a skiff. His footfalls make the earth tremble. Every year, on the night of the spring equinox, he sets down his burden, as gently as a mother laying her child to rest, and picks up another.
The God of Confusion: The God of Confusion lives in the town which bears his name: God of Confusion, Brook County, Amarenne. A casual visitor to God of Confusion, or "goddaconfuzh'n" as the locals call it, might find it a totally ordinary town, with a general store, a few small businesses, some houses, and miles of farmland in every direction. Stick around a spell, and this visitor might meet the god himself, and have a pleasant chat with him. Maybe the god will sing a song around the bonfire, when his turn comes up. But those who actively seek the God of Confusion will find themselves at the nearest road out of town, wondering how they got there. The God of Confusion has no name; at least, no name anyone can remember.
Slippery Mick, God of Locks: A patron of thieves and spies, Slippery Mick is in the business of opening locks, not closing them. A thief in a desperate spot might pray to Slippery Mick, making him a bargain: deliver me from this pass, and I will give you a thousand in gold. If the thief escapes, and the offering is made, the gold will turn to lead as Slippery Mick spirits away its value. If the thief escapes, and the offering is forsworn, the thief's next imprisonment is sure to be his last.
Maravia, Goddess of War: Discussed further in the section on Caledane. One of the most mighty goddesses, and widely worshipped throughout the world. Once a year, she manifests at the grand cathedral in Blueport, showing favor to the humble request of the king. The finest of Caledane's nobles are present; and so are its most prized prisoners of war.
Maravia floats above the altar, motionless, silent, and every living thing, man or beast, worshipper or foe, is made to kneel by the very power of her presence. A thin thread of blood fills the blood-runnel of her sword, and where the drops touch the ground, they become rubies. For fifteen long minutes, all in attendance are utterly motionless, gaze transfixed by the goddess, thoughts utterly focused upon her. It is no longer necessary to breathe. The heart no longer needs to beat. There is a silence deeper than the depth of the sea. The only sound is the slow, irregular click of blood-rubies striking the floor and rolling away.
And then she is gone, and the spell is broken, and everyone remembers to breathe all at once.
Antonius, God of Love: Discussed further in the section on Venetonne. Quite contrary to Maravia's dramatic annual manifestation, Antonius can be found wherever there is joy in the hearts of man. A masked ball held by the finest of nobles, or a peasant dance around a fire to the tune of a single fiddle, are equally likely to draw his attention. He dresses for the occasion, in blue and white finery or in blue and gray rags, and always brings a tray of delicacies, a barrel of wine or beer, and spends hours entertaining the company with songs, jokes, and dances. He requires tribute, of course; as the god of love, he always steals away into the night as the party winds down, taking one, or two, or three, or a crowd, of the youngest and most beautiful revelers with him.
Sometimes they even come home again.
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Pronounced 'KAL-uh-dane'. Loosely modeled on Great Britain.
Caledane has existed in something 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.
The colors of Caledane are red and white. Its symbol is the eagle. Its flag is a red eagle between two horizontal red stripes, on a field of white.
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.
Northern Caledane is called Bradensreach. Centuries ago, it was home to barbarians who resisted the Caledanian kings. The "Reachmen" still have a reputation as hard-drinking rough and ready wilderness warriors. [Think Scotland.]
[feel free to come up with more regions if it's helpful for your background]
The king of Caledane is George III, a bold young man who proved himself by personally traveling to Aldea to take command and win the most recent minor war with Venetonne. He believes in the old ideals of the Caledane nobility: martial valor, noblesse oblige, and the timeless bond of reciprocal obligations between a ruler, the nobility, and the peasantry. He barely understands and hardly trusts the headlong rush toward industralization, and is quietly horrified by the new formulation of "capitalism" that has come into focus with the reopening of the Forbidden Continent.
King George is supported by a majority of Parliament, but his supporters are supporting their personal interests: they are landholders who live in country estates by the labor of their tenant farmers and artisans. The rural economy is the heart of the king's power and his power base. Until about a century ago, urban centers were a sliver of economic output throughout all of Broadland. In 1800, industry makes up 25% of the economy and is growing rapidly. Not all of the king's supporters realize that they are engaged in a factional battle. Those who do realize this have formed loose bonds, and call themselves the Companions of the Crown.
King George and his coalition are opposed by a modernizing, capitalistic, trade-friendly group of nobles who call themselves the Friends of Society. They claim that rapid industrial expansion and scientific advancement will benefit all of society, and they may even believe it, but they have also positioned themselves to reap the rewards of the new order, standing shoulder to shoulder with the rising class of commonborn industrialists.
In Parliament, the Companions have taken to wearing a red and white ribbon, the colors of Caledane. Rather than respond in kind, the Friends have begun wearing modern tailcoats and top hats to Parliament rather than the aristocratic three-quarter coats and lace ruffs of old.
Last names in Caledane tend to be based on locations, structures, or natural features. Highcastle, Cragmoor, Waterside, Blackholm, Ravensfield, Willowbrook, Farwell.
Bradensreach uses these names, but also uses names of saints: "Roderick St. James" would be a stereotypical Reachman name.
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 famous for its elegant and refined cuisine (for the rich), its elaborate music (for the rich), and its fine tailoring and fashion (for the rich).
The colors of Venetonne are blue, white, and gold. Its flag is a golden sun on a horizontal blue-white-blue tricolor. Its national symbol is the sun.
Venetonne is ruled by Queen Amara IV, who was 12 when the first colony was established. She is now 62, and has maintained her grip on power with cunning and brutality.
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. Marvasse, along with Blueport and Telmeria, is one of the three great trading centers of Broadland.
[feel free to make up some regions if it helps your concept]
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, and carries it in the scroll case which gives the order its name.
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: Jamis, Adiron, Buckner, Omech; Kisana, Catrin, Shalira, Tamryn. [i.e. "fantasy names" that still sound mostly European]
Centramundian surnames are based on animals: White Owl, Stalking Wolf, Old Ram. They don't have to be two words: "Kadira Gazelle" could be a Centramundian name. But they are usually two words, because in a region with a lot of gazelles and a lot of Kadiras, you need an extra layer of disambiguation.
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 city-state 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.
[Telmeria is loosely based on the Netherlands and its Amsterdam-based mercantile empire.]
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.
Caledane's territory in Aldea is inventively called "New Caledane", though of course it has many counties. New Caledane does not have states or provinces, because it was decreed a crown colony by will of the king. Instead, Caledane has appointed governors who serve at his majesty's pleasure. Many of these governors are noblemen in their own right, however, or wish to be, and the further they are from the coast, the more they seek to extract value for themselves.
Venetonne's territory in Aldea is called Amarenne, after the crown princess at the time, now Queen Amara IV. In the early days of colonization, Venetonnian nobles sent expeditions at their own expense, and have established city-states or provinces which chafe at the external control of the queen.
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.