One of the things I’m happiest about with this blog is that it’s re-opened some avenues of conversation between me and an old friend. Anyone paying attention to the comments will notice that the most active contributor has been my old friend Glen, whom I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to talk to for quite some time. It’s awesome to keep in touch, but it’s even better to be able to nerd out about gaming and the like.
The fruits of this reunion? Well, I’m pleased to announced FuckedWorld: Where Shit Be Crazy – coming to a blog near you!
The simple fact is, Glen and I both love to create settings, and we also have a tendency to joke about some ridiculous ideas. So now, we’re going to try and combine as many ridiculous ideas as we can, cobbling together the most insane – but still playable – game setting possible.
FuckedWorld is only a working title, for the record.
To get the creative juices pumping, he and I each wrote up a quick bit of introductory fiction, which I’ll post here. Our first, proper article, will be forthcoming soon, I hope.
SHE tried to stay out of it. That clearly was not an option. SHE was by all accounts a pacifist, and in times of war that is a virtue worthy of the highest punishment.
We don’t know how the war started, or exactly how long it lasted, all we know is that everyone died in the battles. Everyone except for the pacifist, who received a much worse punishment. For HERHER spirit was trapped inside a giant shell. inaction
As the war ragged on without HER, things got much worse. Eventually in the climactic battle between all of the gods, with the universe hanging in the balance, a catastrophe occurred. It is not know how it started, or what exactly it was. But all we know is that all of the remaining gods were killed in this moment. The souls and bodies of the gods floated about through the multiverse, with some parts of them landing on the shell that SHE was trapped within.
Many of these God Shards, as we now call them, turned into the dwarves, orcs, dragons, humans, and other intelligent races. Some provided important features to the world like the clouds, seas or arcane powers. Many are still to be discovered.
SHE spent eons struggling to escape HER shell to no avail. In recent millennia SHE has stopped struggling. This has allowed us to thrive and prosper on HER shell. However, signs from the wise men have indicated that perhaps SHE has been docile because she is dying.
It is uncertain at the time of writing if this is true or not. If it is, we have no idea how to save HER. Perhaps an undiscovered God Shard can provide us with the answer.
– Vanyyl, sourced by a God Shard of Knowledge.
Grajeb stood on the deck of the Hobbled Griffin, picking his teeth with a sliver of unicorn bone. His green face scrunched-up for a half second and then he spat over the the side of the ship, watching the coin-sized droplet of saliva glisten in the light as it sailed down, down, forever down. Then he tossed the sliver into his mouth, crunched it between his molars, and sucked the bitter-tasting marrow down his throat – unicorn bone was supposed to be good for fertility, and his third wife had been nagging about a seventh child.
The goblin captain turned from the blue sky, eyes narrow as he turned toward his first mate. Pekrovak was a hobgoblin, and he was sleeping with Grajeb’s sister (though he thought the wily goblin wasn’t on to him), but he could plot a course through the skies better than any other man, woman, or miscellaneous Grajeb had ever met.
“We need to pick up the pace.” Pekrovak made a face, shrugging.
“I don’t think we can work the humans much harder without killing some of them.” Grajeb stretched his lips tightly against his crooked, yellow teeth – left hand idly tugging on the hoop of gold dangling from his ear, an old nervous tick that ruined him whenever he played cards.
“Do it. If we’re late with this shipment, Pasha Radin will have my head and yours – and that’s one efreet whose good side I want to stay on.” Grajeb grunted, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll replace the slaves at port – dwarves next time. They work harder.” Pekrovak nodded and left his captain in peace.
Grajeb wandered back to the railing, looking down over the side – staring down to where the ocean wavered back and forth, more than sixty miles below. He slid a hand into his pocket, fished out another sliver of unicorn bone, and began sucking on it idly while musing on baby names.
Half an hour later a human slave collapsed dead in the engine room, blood streaming from his nose and eyes, body twitching with violent convulsions. No one besides Pekrovak noticed.
Because of the dozen-plus e-mails that need to be exchanged between me and Glen to get a single article written up, there’s no reliable update schedule with this one. Those who need their setting creation itch to be scratched will still be able to tune in regularly for the World Workshop (I’ll be posting another one tomorrow, I hope). FuckedWorld is something a little different, that we both hope you’ll enjoy.