The Elements of Dragonlance

First, let me apologise to you readers who have remained loyal. I've been on an unexpected and sudden hiatus for the past few weeks, as I settle into my new job. Work has been hectic, but enjoyable. I will try and resume posting soon. In the meantime, I hope I can tide you over a bit with this article I wrote about running a game in the Dragonlance world.

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Krynn is a world like no other. It is not a world of dungeon crawls and random encounters; not a world where magic items can be used as an alternate form of currency. Krynn is a world of rich story, where unlikely heroes must make life-defining choices and accomplish goals that have meaning beyond the obvious.

Thus it follows that there are elements which must always and ever be present on any game that would be set on Krynn in order to remain true to the feel and purpose of the setting. These critical elements are the definition of Krynn; its base and pure form.

First and foremost, any Krynnish campaign must involve the name of the setting. It is called Dragonlance, and accordingly, any campaign set on Krynn must include dragons. And not just any dragons; every dragon on Krynn is a unique, individual creature. Although they invariably attend to their alignments, Krynn's dragons are great and wonderful beings that the heroes are not likely to defeat in one-on-one combat even at their most powerful. These creatures are majestic and wondrous beings; creatures worthy to have an entire setting defined just for them. Dragons may not always be the major players in the game, but they must always have a part in the story, no matter how small.

In addition to her mighty namesake, Dragonlance holds a host of very specific thematic creations that must always exist in a game set therein. Can Dragonlance truly be Dragonlance without honourable knights and crafty magic-users? I daresay it cannot. Although there are knights on most any fantasy world, the Knights of Solamnia are a different breed of knight. And although every world boasts powerful wizards, none can claim to have a group even remotely akin to the Wizards of High Sorcery. These unique thematic creations are as important as they are unique. They are the showcases of Dragonlance; they are what makes it a different world, and they must appear.

Similarly, the world is populated by unique races that no other world may claim. Kender are not just halflings; indeed, they hardly deserve to be related. Curious and fearless, these creatures have been involved in every major plot on Dragonlance since the Greygem first created them. Without Kender, the innocence of the world is lost.

Krynn is not a world of expected and obvious occurrences. From its unlikely heroes to its shroud of mystery, the Dragonlance setting proves time and again that things are never what they appear. From the most humble of upbringings, Krynn's heroes always begin their adventure with no idea why they are adventuring at all. They are not heroic generals of ages past who have arisen again to defend the village. Krynn's heroes are always young and open-minded individuals who are thrust into conflict against overwhelming odds.

The typical Krynnish campaign begins with a mysterious and unexpected turn of events that the heroes cannot explain. They are driven into a plot that began long before they came along, and which fully engulfs them before they even realise it has begun. These heroes endeavour to complete meaningful goals that can change their entire world—if not the entire world. Along the way, they will encounter memorable villains; creations who are so much more than just a series of numbers and calculations. These villains are always as much of an anti-hero as the protagonists themselves are horoes. They have a story, and come from all the same unlikely backgrounds as the characters themselves. Thus, the infinite struggle of good versus evil is not only experienced on the grand scale of army versus army, but also on the individual scale of the hero versus the villain.

The villains may not always be obvious in-and-of themselves. Most often, at least one of the most villainous characters in the campaign will be beloved unto the party. These beloved villains are typically plot-driving characters, who will force the heroes to make life-defining choices. The heroes will find that every action in Dragonlance has consequences, and that at some point, they must sacrifice nearly everything to achieve their greatest goal. Thus breeds corruption: will the heroes choose the fate of the world? Or will the beloved villain (be it an actual person, a devotion to an unexpectedly villainous ideal, or some other quality) cause them to falter and join the ranks of the villains themselves?

To counter these beloved villains, the party will find romance. Although this may sometimes come in the form of lust and purely sexual encounter, usually it will be evinced in a deeper, more abiding romance. Perhaps it will be a romance that can never be fully realised, such as the love shared between Huma and Gwynneth, or Sturm and Alhanna, yet to the heroes that are involved in the romance, it will be a constant reminder of the righteous path. And where their romance fails, they will always find that faith can guide them back to the right path. Perhaps not a belief in the true gods (for these may not always be found on Krynn), but rather in the more intrinsic belief that there is a higher power guiding the events of the world below.

The challenges the heroes must face along their epic quest are never random. Each encounter contributes to the overall story, although the characters may not realise the contribution that the encounter has made until it is long past. Along the way, the heroes will discover legends that foretell their own story, or that intertwine with the unique artifacts and fantastic locations they will find along their journey.

Dragonlance is—in short—a world defined not by a fighter, mage, thief, or cleric, but by the stories, and by the characters that bring those stories to fulfillment. It is a world of balance; a pendulum constantly swinging. Good redeems its own. Evil feeds upon itself. And good and evil must exist in contrast. These are the laws of Krynn, and they must never be broken.

Stating the Obvious

Last time in Intelligent Design, I discussed the two most common methods of world development in practice today. Although other methods do exist, most world builders agree that inside out and outside in are the two most basic and useful ways to design a new setting. As I stated previously, the best world developers rely on a firm understanding of both of these two approaches to creation, and blend them together as they flesh out their world.

Like building a house, the exact order in which you complete the individual steps of the world building process are often similar, but may vary from one developer to another, or in one world to another. However, also like in building a house, there is a process which must always and invariably come first: laying the foundation. In a house, this foundation is made of stone and concrete, and is laid out smooth and flat; in the world, it is the underlying premise and theme which the world will ascribe to. In both, it is a simple feature, build strong and stead, but with no real feature or definition. The integrity of the entire structure depends on this underlying foundation, and this could be no truer in the foundation of your world.

The key to building a believable and rich world is to begin by identifying a unifying theme. A few years ago, Wizards of the Coast made a challenge to would-be world developers, asking them to submit their ideas in writing in an effort to become the next shared-world for Wizards of the Coast's novels and role-playing games to be set in. Each applicant was required to first and foremost define the core ethos statement for their world. This was defined as "a sentence that describes the core ethos of the world. For example, Forgotten Realms is a world of sword-and-sorcery adventure, where heroes battle monsters with magic." No truer could it be that this core ethos statement is the foundation of all world development. If you do not know what you want to create at this very fundamental level, then your world will never attain a life of its own. The theme of your world (or its "core ethos") ought to be easily summed up in one or two sentences, and should accurately depict both the genre (fantasy, science-fiction, steampunk, etc) and the purpose (epic battles, political intrigue, scientific exploration) of your world.

As in the example provided by Wizards of the Coast, you ought to begin by choosing a name for your setting. Theirs was the Forgotten Realms. Don't worry about what the name is, or means, or even whether it is permanent. You may change the name a thousand times over the next few days, weeks, and months as the world is molded to your view, but having something to call it by is important. If you don't like coming up with names, then give it a unique identifier (World Design #1) or a letter (World A). All that matters is that you come up with some way to refer to your world when discussing things with others.

Once you've decided how to refer to your world, decide the genre that you will set it in. Wizards of the Coast chose fantasy, and then chose to further define it as "sword and sorcery" fantasy. This further definition serves to not only remove some of the bland taste to your world, it also allows you to set a mood. Choose an adjective or two that describes whatever genre you choose. If you choose science fiction as your genre, then you might decide call it a utopian future science-fiction, or a post-apocalyptic science fiction. Both of these terms fit the science-fiction genre, but they have very distinctive moods that better describe the world you are hoping to create.

Finally, explain the purpose of your world. For Wizards of the Coast, the purpose is "where heroes battle monsters with magic." This allows us to immediately identify that the world will be mostly about the magic, and the heroes and heroines that adventure in epic struggles against great monsters and in deep dungeons. Sure, they didn't say all of that, but you can easily infer it just by reading! Choose a purpose for your own world. What will the key players be doing in your world? Why are they there? What are their goals? In our post-apocalyptic science fiction, you might decide to say that "humans wage a war of survival against terrible alien invaders." Sure it's cheesy, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that we know what we want people to do in our world, so that as we develop the rest of the details, we will have a guiding principle.

Once you've got all of these details, you can put it all together. World Design #1 is a post-apocalyptic earth, where humans must wage a war of survival against terrible alien invaders. Write it in big bold letters somewhere near the top of your notes. On every page if you have to. This core ethos statement is the single most important piece of your world, and if you lose track of it at any point in the process, then your entire process may be threatened.

Next time in Intelligent Design, I will teach you where to begin in the rather daunting list of tasks yet to be completed. It all starts with The Master Key.

World Building Every Which Way

In the Dungeon Master's Guide^®, the concept of World Building is presented with two options that are as different as night from day.

The Inside Out approach preaches beginning with a small part of the world—perhaps a single building, a city, or a small region. Here, the world developer is encouraged to "start with a small area and build outward. Don't even worry about what the whole world looks like, or even the kingdom." [135] The key is to build in detail; to create what the players will encounter first, and to ensure that they are fully fleshed out from the very beginning. If your players will receive their first quest from an Apothecary named Jonathan Millsworth, then you are encouraged to explain who mister Millsworth is, what his shop looks like, his history, his personality, his motivation, and his theory. From there, the world developer is expected to develop the buildings near mister Millsworth's shop, and those that will be encountered along the way while the players complete the assignment they have been given. You are to "expand slowly, and only when needed," and "outward, in all directions so you're ready no matter which way they go." [135]

A number of benefits are readily apparent with this method. The campaign creator is free to develop only the things that are needed, allowing them to work slowly towards their goals, rather than rushing to complete everything in time. The developer has more time to focus on the intricate details and to work out the specifics rather than requiring a more broad view. Small areas generally have more vibrancy and realism to them when they are generated from the inside out, and NPCs have more credible personalities, as more time is spent on them individually rather than on the whole. However, several downsides also exist to this method. Often-times, aspects which may be important to the player characters are overlooked as not yet relevant to the world developer; for example, if only a few gods are fleshed out in great detail, then a player's choices of deity are severely limited even when the world creator may have intended a large pantheon. Often-times, the inside out method can lead to jarring and unrealistic topology and terrain; a savanna situated next to a massive snowy region, or a river that flows opposite the other rivers in the region. These things may seem unimportant to the casual world developer, but to players who thrive on a game whose physics match the real world or are otherwise explained, they are often devastating blows.

The Outside In approach encourages the world developer to begin with the macro; developing a map of the entire world first, and then slowly defining features from the vaguest outline down to the narrowest. You are expected to separate the land-masses separate from the water, perhaps by defining such details as tectonic plates, followed by coastal areas, mountains, forests, rivers, lakes, deserts, and so on. Finally, you create political regions, which may or may not have historical backgrounds. Cities, and individual businesses come last, along with demographics, racial groups, ecologies, and regions. "Only after you have this level of concept design worked out should you focus on a particular area." [135]

Like its alternative, the outside in approach has a number of benefits. Details that the players often wish to know are usually available—such as who the deities are and what they stand for (even if the full details are not yet known). The world works cohesively together as one piece, and terrain flows naturally from one region to another with few unexpected changes. On the grander scale, the world feels more plausible. Yet too like the alternative, the outside in method also has a number of drawbacks. Often the world feels unfinished and lacking in focus. NPCs may come off as cookie-cutter or flat as their personalities have not yet been fully fleshed out. The deities, individual cities, indeed entire regions may yet feel somewhat empty or lacking in substance, when they do not have the individual flair to make them breathe with lives of their own.

Both of these methods are incredibly useful in generating worlds, and to the first time setting creator, I advise you to give them both a try one at a time—not because they are perfect, but because a working knowledge and understanding of each of them is important to truly understand what is necessary for world development that works. Once you are comfortable with both inside out and outside in world building, then you can truly learn how to develop worlds with the best of both methods, and as few of their drawbacks as possible. That is—ultimately—what is necessary to build a world properly: the ability to develop both outside in and inside out simultaneously.

Every world developer will reach key goals at different times in the development process; and for some developers, it will be different with each new world they develop. However, there are a few guidelines which all would-be world developers can benefit from when they begin work in earnest to create their own living, breathing world.

Next time in Intelligent Deisgn, I will delve into the most important aspect of world development, and the first step to ensuring a living, breathing world: Stating the Obvious.

Further Reading:

• The Dungeon Master's Guide contains an entire chapter on world building in the Dungeons & Dragons game. Although focused towards that system, this chapter is useful for any development of a Fantasy world.
• Rich Staats has written an excellent article about designing fantasy worlds using the standard outside in and inside out methods, although he changes their names to bottom up and top down.
  
• FUDGE (developed by Grey Ghost Press, Inc.) is a "customizable role-playing game, perfect for game masters who like to tinker with rules." Although the system itself is extremely vague, the principles espoused within are a great resource for any would-be world developer.
  

Building like a God

In every game system, across every platform and at every level, there exist a number of pre-defined worlds and settings in which to play. Yet for many of us, playing a game in someone else's world is only half the fun. For many of us, the true joy of role-playing games come when you are able to create a world of your own imagination. For some, the real joy comes in watching a party of characters as they explore and delve into this new and never-before-seen world to discover all the treasure of creativity you have poured into it.

In this series of articles, I will explore the many facets of world development, and provide theories and advice for how to develop your own game world from a clean slate to the most intricate of details. Each week, I will guide you further through the process of developing a world that is vibrant, breathing, and fully defined.

The goal is not to create a perfect, immutable world, but rather to create a world that can evolve and change over time. By reading through these articles, you should have a playable world with only one month of work, even if that world is not yet complete. I will show you what steps to take to get the world ready quickly, what things to avoid along the way, and how to most effectively continue expanding the world even while players are already interacting with it.

But in the interests of not reinventing the wheel, I will first begin by explaining the two most common methods of world development, and exploring what works and what doesn't work about each. Next time in Intelligent Design: World Building Every Which Way.