A New World
I am working on a new fantasy world. Why? Because three aren’t enough. Inside of my brain, I have of course created many more than three, but those three are the ones that have written down notes, maps and such.
1. Ur
This is probably my most exhaustive setting. The name “Ur” came from the idea that there had lived many MANY empires in the world, and it was very old and weary. I did not create the gods and races and ancestries and cultures from scratch, so all my time spent building this world was put into stories, plots, characters, wars and some architecture and cultural aesthetics. I ran MANY dungeons & dragons campaigns in Ur, and many more one-shots with friends, family members and ex-girlfriends. It was very much a classic fantasy world inherited from Zelda, Middle-earth, The Elder Scrolls, Greyhawk and Forgotten Realms.
Many hours were spent designing this world. I Made print out newspapers from the depths of iron deep: “Death, Dwarves & Taxes” it was called. I wrote silly party invitations written by a certain pretentious devil named Malphast. I designed an intricate war timeline that describes all the causes of current sociopolitical events of the standing families and empires. And I drew a map :). I haven’t run a campaign in Ur in three years.
2. The Red Mountains
As I spent more and more time in Ur, I ended up with a feeling that it was not entirely “mine”. I had unknowingly adopted many preconceived notions of what a fantasy world is, and my brain was longing for a more concise and thought-through vibe and style. I wanted the places in my fantasy world to feel magical and whimsical. Not just a set of written down facts.
To achieve that vibe, I decided that I needed to write a poem for each entry in my collection of notes, that would inspire the facts and the fiction. Many bad poems were written, that had absolutely no relevance to the world that the Red Mountains came to be. I think it might have had a strong initial impact on my players who I run a campaign for to this day, but I sincerely believe that those poems missed the mark entirely for me.
They were all inspired by my favourite poem of all time: “Oread” by Hilda Doolittle. That sense of wonder that comes from simply looking over forests and mountains. A feeling of grand adventure inside a itty bitty heart. The inherent poetry and meaning in a Bob Ross painting. I was unable to capture that feeling in the poems.
However. The weird creatures inhabiting the solar system of lands and asteroids and lakes and moons and islands ended up giving this world life. It has become a very whimsical world indeed. Skinwings and Wits live there now. Green Ones and Hyrdar. Felatie and Abomina. The Red mountains lacks the in-world historical depth that Ur has, but instead achieved a sense of newfound magic springing forth in a new and unexplored world.
Despite what you might expect, The Red Mountains has an an extremely thorough magic system. I wouldn’t have thought that such a silly world would end up having so intricately designed systems of magic, ecology and sociology, but it’s thouroughness truly emphasises it’s bonkers characters and styles. Ur, in contrast, has no magic system outside of the players handbook.
3. My Book
I am writing a novel, and it has a world. I will spend no time describing it, but perhaps I will post some of the chapters here on the blog :D.
Now I have come to the present, and I am missing something. There is a vibe and a tone that my fantasy worlds have only dipped their toes into, and for which I need an entirely new world to capture. I want to have a space where I can explore and emphasise mechanical and societal systems. Grand cities with narrow streets and urban shenanigans. A non-magic world filled with wonder and eyes looking at the cogs of creation. Steam and cogs, paving the way for the swirling streets and ingenious minds. Zeppelins and wooden airplanes exploring the secrets of the new world. And perhaps a little tiny spark of electricity now spinning the already zany mechanics on their whirligigs.
However, I suppose that a strange man or two hiding under dark umbrellas, smoking on streetcorners of noir streets wouldn’t hurt. With an ever so little wand or crystal tucked away in their belt.