Causality

Been waiting a while to say this, but Issue 16 of Wishbone Words is out, and it's got one of MY stories, The Last Abbot, included in it!

I'll be real, The Last Abbot touches on some political themes that are important to me. Only read on if you're comfortable with that.

If you've ever felt like things are going nowhere because we're all running through the same revolving door of people from one disappointing leadership to the next, The Last Abbot touches on that. It's a story about how, even if there were the few diamonds in the rough through a country's worst administrations, cabinets, or whatever you want to call them, that doesn't give those people the right to dictate your next four or even fifty years from the shadows or front and centre. We deserve better than the least worst.

I really feel for the writers who've contributed to World of Warcraft over the years. I've been working on a Warcraft-themed campaign and going through all the lore has given me this feeling similar to watching a good movie with a Weinstein credit. I know they didn't mean to have that black spot on the project they put so much work into, and it kinda makes me want to play WoW even more.

One thing I like in particular are the origins of the races.

With the orcs, for instance, they're the descendants of a stone giant named Grond, and when I say giant, I mean enormous. Like, almost continent-sized. And Grond had kids who were called the Colossals, and the Colossals made the gronn, who then evolved into the ogron, then the ogres, then finally the orcs. They're literally just elementals who grew skin!

Then there's the trolls:

The trolls evolved around this huge magic fountain the size of a lake called the Well of Eternity, and all of Azeroth's (the main world's) magic initially pooled there like the centre of all leylines. Once, the world was only raw elements, but the Well created the first organisms, and soon after those organisms became the trolls! But that's not the end of it.

The trolls who stayed closest to the Well evolved again and became the elves! And the dwarves were around back then as well, but they weren't actually a flesh and blood race like the others. They were Titan-forged, which basically meant they were a race of stone and occasionally iron golems who the Titans (the main gods) put on Azeroth to essentially terraform it. They wanted Azeroth to be a Titan outpost because it allowed them to contain these cosmic horrors, the Old Gods, deep underground in a sort of Tartarus-type situation. But the Old Gods broke containment partially and cursed the Titan-forged with the Curse of Flesh.

If you think about it, basically every race is either the result of some sort of Promethean earth-to-flesh transformation, or magic-assisted evolution! I think that's pretty neat, as far as origins go. No one's there because they're meant to be. Every race has been meddled with, every origin thanks to someone experimenting or interfering with the natural order.

The Warcraft universe is one giant petri dish that got out of hand, and nothing about existence is going as planned. There is no pre-destined order to things, and even the most powerful entities are just improvising. It's a very interesting way of doing things, and it's that kind of creativity that makes me able to overlook (but not forget) bad figures like Bobby Kotick (absolute piece of shit) or other people in gaming or just in general who deserve to be cast out and left to rot.

What I'm trying to say, in a nutshell, is that I really hope the artists who had the misfortune of being a part of projects connected to these shitty people know that I love them for their work. Pieces of shit like pretty much every CEO will always disappoint us, but I refuse to let them taint the art which they had next to no hand in making.

Once, there was a pair of magic scissors. Plenty of magic people had used them to do magical things, from trimming tassels on magic carpets to clipping twigs from wooden boys. But the scissors were now old and bent, and their edges now dull and chipped. So, they sat at the bottom of a drawer, waiting for years to be used.

The last person to own them was an old inventor, and they passed away before they could fix the scissors. So, the scissors were packed up and sold to a trinket shop, where they were then bought by a mother for her little daughter. The daughter was a creative type, and loved old and storied things – especially shiny ones – so the scissors made a perfect birthday present.

The daughter loved her dolls and would use the scissors to style their hair and snip up their clothes to fit the latest fashions. But then, her little brother – littler even than her – got a hold of the scissors and did some cutting of his own. He rampaged through the house, snipping as he went, until he came upon a piece of paper he'd covered in scribbles the day before. That paper, he cut into the shape of a person.

"Why?" you may ask. Well, for no particular reason.

But cut they did, and a person's shape, they did make. And then, as the daughter wrested the scissors from her brother's hand, the paper came to life. Scribbled and scuffed, stained and crinkled, the paperkin stood up and asked the obvious question:

What am I?

"My new doll!" the daughter replied, and she scooped up the paperkin in her arms and dumped it out into her favourite dollhouse.

Even though the paperkin was covered in scribbles, the daughter tried her best to write over them. She wanted the best parts of all her dolls to be on the paperkin, so she drew on it the best clothes she could imagine and the happiest face with the rosiest cheeks. Then, she introduced it to the rest of her beloved dolls.

With the scissors in hand, the daughter tapped all her dolls on the head and brought them to life just like the paperkin. The dolls all played with each other happily, frolicking and tea-partying, but the paperkin didn't dance their jaunty dances or drink their imaginary teas. It looked at the patterns on its paper body and puzzled over them, wondering what they were. In its head, it saw many more patterns, each of them colourful, but none of them particularly pretty.

The little brother's scrawls, it seemed, were not just paper-deep. They made the poor paperkin's thoughts come in not-so-clear, and made the other dolls look at them and know the paperkin was different. The dolls wore polka dots and stripes, and others wore tartan or plaid. Some dressed in leopard print, others in lace, but they knew all these things were by design, while what was different about the paperkin was more of a mistake.

Not only did the dolls notice, but so did the daughter, and she worried the paperkin would be left out, so she took the scissors again – as well as some paints – and got to work making everything better. But her idea of better was not what the paperkin hoped, as she trimmed off its corners and painted over her little brother's mess. Snip, snip, snip.

Over top of the scribbles, she drew more presentable things, turning smears into stripes and stains into squares. She looked at her work and was satisfied by what she saw, and she popped the paperkin back into the dollhouse where everything could at last be normal.

The dolls treated the paperkin better, like it was one of them, but the paperkin didn't feel better; only trimmed. Even though its colours now matched and its shape was neater, it could always feel what was now overwritten, and what had been cut. But from then on, when the paperkin wrinkled or its smile faded, the daughter took it from the dolls and made it tidy again. Snip, snip, snip.

When the daughter grew up, the dolls grew up, too, and when they and the paperkin outgrew the dollhouse, they left and found places to call their own. When they stepped from the daughter's doorstep – with a twinkle and a flash – each doll of porcelain, plastic, and paper, turned into skin and bone. They stayed in touch, for the most part, but the paperkin left; to places where no one knew of once-paper people or of dolls that were easier to love.

It's for that reason I want to entitle the collection "Murder Darwin". It sounds like a good fit to me; eye-catching, memorable, and it serves the through-line that each entry would have likely killed the actual Darwin. Another thing I'm looking to impart is that each of these horror "villains" is just something that evolved supernaturally.

The one thing that keeps me revisiting the name is that it sounds good to me but I have no clue what would actually catch the attention of a reader.

Of all the deities in the Forgotten Realms canon, one of the more interesting and potentially nuanced ones is Siamorph, AKA the demipower of Divine Right to Rule.

Siamorph presides over the very concept of kings, queens, and the noble class, requiring only that their followers act in a distinguished manner above the other classes. They are the demipower of classism and decorum, making sure that monarchies run smoothly and without corruption or tyranny; but, in demanding so little, they leave certain openings in their church.

Chief amongst Siamorph's faithful are many advisors and regents of monarchs, since they can be trusted neither to betray their ruler nor covet the throne for themselves. This means that these advisors, and by extension Siamorph themself, always have the ear of the heads of great kingdoms and sprawling empires. Siamorph oversees the transition of power, as well as the education of future rulers, which certainly makes them Lawful Good, right?

But not once have I mentioned that they will step in if kingdoms go to war with each other, nor have I mentioned anything about what they view as the proper treatment of the serfs, the plebes, or the working classes. That's because there is no set framework for what to do beside what is just, and the reason for that is because Siamorph is just as their name applies: they're morphic.

Siamorph is a demipower, and demipowers have different rules compared to true gods. One of Siamorph's particular rules is that they take a physical form in the Material Plane, usually taking over the body of a high noble who died unexpectedly, but under circumstances that were particularly noble. They can be any gender, any race, so long as that race has a noble class. But that also means they change based on the standards of a kingdom's nobility.

Siamorphe's influence in a country concerned with good and charity will enforce that good and charity, and instill it in coming generations of rulers, but they will just as easily enforce inequality and decadence. The norm is what Siamorph maintains, not the ideal, and thus they will not intervene until kings and queens become tyrants and despots. Up until that point, they will allow any extent of colonization, imperialism, and persecution, so long as that fits into what is considered to be rightful and just by the aristocracy.

And if a kind, respectful king should be overthrown by self-serving nobles, all consumed by greed which that king stifled, Siamorph will not step in, no; they will give legitimacy to whomever is installed as the new king. If the nobles will it, then it is right. And if it is right for one kingdom to attack another, a kingdom also advised by Siamorph, then those two kingdoms will go to war, with both their rulers being simultaneously told by Siamorph that they are in the right, up until some procedural rule is violated at which point Siamorph will instantly abandon one of them.

This is just my interpretation, don't think I speak with any final authority on matters of Dungeons and Dragons lore, but I find it a compelling part of the fiction to consider.

I have a few ideas for how Siamorph could be a part of an adventure, or the focus of a whole campaign.

One idea is that they could be unintentionally pitting two kingdoms against each other, gradually convincing both of them that the other one is evil and that it is their duty to conquer them. The presence of Siamorph in one kingdom could be entirely different to the other because of cultural differences, and every step made at the advice of one of Siamorph's advisors could be seen as a direct provocation by the other.

An adventure like this would likely end up being a question of who's right in the end. A party could be swayed by either side, or they could realize early on that the war is entirely pointless and will leave both kingdoms worse off than before. Maybe the party will learn the truth much to late to avert disaster. Perhaps, as things escalate, a once-good kingdom could start on a dark path. They could try ousting Siamorph's advisors to relieve tensions, or they could trick one of the rulers into breaking a rule and losing their whole support structure.

My other idea is of a school, like some sort of Barbie princess academy. Princes and princesses from across the land, the party members included, could attend the school to learn diplomacy and etiquette. Noble scions from across the world could be there, each of them sorted into various houses based on the style of ruling favoured in their homelands or the standards the upper class is held to there. There could be great halls decked out in the heraldry of a thousand noble houses. Next door could be massive ballrooms that are treated as sports arenas where the best charmers and socializers come away with gilded trophies. Outside one might find magnificent gardens where some students may very well encounter their future husband or wife, be it by choice, or by careful arrangement by their parents.

Anybody working on dnd campaigns in any of the main-line properties like the Forgotten Realms, I so heavily encourage you to look at the old stuff from 3rd Edition and the revision.

Listen, there's some absolutely amazing stuff in there. Even if you weren't even alive when they came out, read some of the books. The picture above is of a Red Vampiric Dragon... A RED VAMPIRIC DRAGON. If I don't end up using a vampire dragon as a villain at some point I'm gonna haunt someone.

If you want that particular stat block, whether it be for inspiration or converting to 5e or any other game system, check it out in the Draconomicon (it's on the internet archive). That same book also has the Styx Dragon, and I'm gonna need to put a picture of that one in here, too.

It's literally a dragon who's immune to the River Styx, which is deadly pretty much anywhere you find it. They're apex predators for full-on demons, and they can make their victims lose all their intelligence. Added on to that: y'know Achilles and the whole myth that he was nearly unkillable because his mother dipped him in the River Styx as a baby? Same principle. These guys swim in invincibility juice their entire lives and then eat their weight in campaign-ending bosses. Styx Dragons, like with all dragons, are much weaker when they're young, but I don't think either of us is thinking of using a young one rn.

There's one more thing that I can't not mention: the Ur-Priest. Not many good pictures of them, so use your imagination, but they're essentially god parasites. They take divine spells that clerics usually get and use them (usually) for evil. They're in the books "Complete Divine" and "The Book of Vile Darkness" as prestige classes, and I'm completely smitten with them as potential antagonists. They'd be perfectly good for an evil campaign or an anti-hero one, but I love the idea of having a villain or minion who can perfectly pass as a cleric of the nicest, most trustworthy deity you can think of, and nobody ever questions them because they can cast the same exact spells.

That's really why I love all of these: the surprise. Having your players unaware that any of these things could even exist makes it all the cooler for them when they run into the vampire dragon, or the intelligence-draining dragon, or the pretender priest who's pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. And those are just THREE examples I took from only TWO BOOKS out of the over 80 others.

I love Fable 3.

It's probably the least acclaimed of the Fable games, but I really can't choose any other as my favourite.

I love it for the same reason people love the other entries in the series - it's the one I grew up playing. Fable 1 is appreciated for how refreshing it was in the gaming landscape of its time, Fable 2 for being innovative in its own right, yet Fable 3 doesn't get nearly the same treatment, and I know why.

Gaming journalists are old.

Not too old - they're not congressmen - but old enough that they've dug in their heels when it comes to what is best. When it comes to childhood games, they can't judge what's best because they can't go back to that time. They can conjure it, namely by playing the games of their childhoods, but they can't put themselves back in that headspace of perfect readiness to enjoy something new to them. We lose that as we get older, that openness. Instead, we hold everything we see up to what we saw first. We compare.

And that's where Fable 3 really wins out for me. It had elements of hack-and-slash action games, of RPGs, adventure games, and even a touch of simulation and management games. You could be a hero or a villain, but being a hero meant being smart while being a villain meant taking the easy way and suffering down the line for it. You could shape the course of the game with your decisions. You could even be gay! (Very rare for back then.)

And none of those things are forced on the player. It usually takes more than one playthrough to get the best ending because the game doesn't railroad you towards the good choices. It tells you that you can make them, but it never goes past a tutorial. There's next to nothing forcing you to be really good or really evil, not outside of the binary story choices you'll encounter, but even those don't decide how well things go for you as a whole. The game makes you take it on your own initiative to make Albion a haven or a hellscape, and it gives you the freedom necessary to see where you can improve, which is such a rare thing for children's and teenager's games nowadays.

I credit Fable 3 with pointing me to every game I play today, but not just that. As a person, I am shaped by the simple morals of that game. After all, it was a big part of my childhood. It's what's helped me build my idea of right and wrong, and helped me see who I can be. I imagine parts of my earlier life that have coloured my present, and I can see so much of me in this game. For the rest of my life, I will see it all around me, in my tastes, in my hobbies, and in who I choose to love. I see Fable 3 in them, not because it forced me, but because I wanted to do them, and giving me the option was all I needed.

I've had another short story published! Check it out on page 20. I really enjoyed writing the comedic aspects. I spent a lot of my childhood playing British-made adventure games, RPG's, and the like, and they really captured a kind of comedy that no one has managed to replicate in modern games. I hope I was able to capture some of that Fable and Black & White charm with Alberix.

Big thanks to The Gilded Dragon!

I wrote a short story that got published!

I've been trying to write full novels for years without much luck, but then my partner helped me realize that I needed to build up a portfolio first in order to get people's attention. Happy to say it's going well so far!

For the first time in my life, I feel like there's a genuine chance I can do this.