Under Sleeping Suns: The Hour's Getting Late

So last week, I broke off of world-building-theory and got into world-building-practice - and this week continues in that vein (not solely because I wanted to finish the verse from "All Along The Watchtower," but maybe a little bit because of that). Last week, the methods and happenings that led to the state of things as they are today in terms of the Gods and their powers in the game world. This week, the importance and impact of those Gods, their clergy, and the difference between worship and belief in a Fantasy RPG World.

Let's start with that last bit first.

In the Fantasy RPG genre, unless the game world is specifically designed to be contrary to such things, the power of the various Gods is very, very real. If the game world isn't specifically set up to be a more "real-world" style game (a-la Conan or a "Modern Magic" style game), you're dealing with a completely different definition of reality than we deal with in our day-to-day lives. Not to start a debate on whether or not the various deities of Earth actually exist or not, but let's face it: In a Fantasy RPG, when someone calls upon the power of their God, it works. It works reliably, it works with visible, tangible effects, and more often than not, it works in such a way as to prevent the concept of Atheism altogether.

Which is why I make a distinction between worship and belief in this essay: It is entirely possible not to worship any of the Gods in a Fantasy RPG. There are plenty of people in Under Sleeping Suns who do not worship Kolas, or The Nine, for instance. But that doesn't mean they don't believe in them. There's a very distinct crowbar of difference, there, and it bears examining.

In a universe or reality where someone can raise up their hands and call out a prayer to their God or Gods and have that prayer answered with a burst of magical energy that drives back the undead, or lightning from the sky, or the resurrection of a fallen comrade, there is very little in the way of denial of this one solid fact: That power is real. It is right there. You really kind of have to admit that it happened, and believe in it. But even if you believe in it, that doesn't mean that you necessarily worship or pay respect to the God or Gods that it came from.

In nearly every Fantasy RPG I've played or seen, the differences between Arcane and Divine magic are very clear - Arcane Magic can create facsimiles of life (eg, Golems, Homunculi, and the like), and is very good at turning one thing into another (either by transmuting or outright destroying it). But it very rarely can actually heal wounds or return life to the dead. Divine Magic, on the other hand, tends to work in the opposite manner - restoring life and limb, assisting in the creation of things and people, and so on and so forth. Mostly, this comes from a sort of "RPG-DNA" that can trace its way back to the original Dungeons & Dragons rules, and it's worked pretty well through all of its incarnations so far.

These distinctions between Divine and Arcane magic, then, also help to establish the barrier to Atheism in the Fantasy RPG. In a world where you can observe how Magicians operate, and see the clear differences between their art and the arts of the Clergy, more fuel is added to the "Yep, the Gods are real!" fire. There is a surety and a very clear certainty, then, in a Fantasy RPG world - When someone from that world says "I don't believe that the Gods are real," that person is either lying, or is crazy. The power of the Gods is everywhere. It heals the sick, it mends broken limbs, it feeds the hungry, and more. Heck, even in Planescape, the Athar Faction, who firmly believed that the Gods weren't actually Gods, still believed that they were incredibly powerful entities who could do some truly amazing things. You may not believe that Grebnar, God Of Pies, is the one true God of Baking, but you can't deny that Grebnar's priests do a damn good job of making those pies while under the effects of Grebnar's Prayer Of Rising Dough. Mmm. Pie.

Therefore, it stands to reason that if you have a FRPG world in which the Gods are truly real and do exist, and it follows that their power is also real, that the role of the church and clergy within that FRPG world would therefore have to rise up to reflect that reality. If Kolas can kill Jengo, and in so doing cause every last one of Jengo's priests to lose their eyes to jets of divine flame, then Kolas is powerful and real and those who worship him have just had their faith bolstered a thousand fold. If a Woundhealer of Tara can reattached a soldier's severed leg and with a few hushed verses of song bring him back to his feet with nary a scar and no pain to speak of, that soldier will return to the front lines blessing the Goddess for as long as he has breath. You may not worship those Gods, but you can't deny that those Gods exist.

Taking all of that into account, then, I got to thinking about the various FRPG's that I've played, and how with a few exceptions (again, Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay figures prominently in that list) the various churches and religions of the world are just sort of there. They exist, sure. But by and large, unless a player character is a priest or paladin (or insert-flavor-of-holy-warrior-here), of a particular Deity, they don't really do much. Consider the following scenario, typical to just about any FRPG:

The party enters town, and breaks up according to their types. Alar, the Fighter, goes to the local pub and "listens for rumors," which is his code for spending his money on strong drink and loose women. Beanpole, the Rogue, goes with Alar, because Alar's always good for a laugh when he gets drunk, and well, someone has to listen for rumors. Clarice, the Wizard, heads to the Library, because she wants to study up on some new spells and do some research on the ancient tablet the party found in the ruins at the bottom of the dry lake. Finally, there's Dashiel, the Cleric, who goes to the temple of his God, and prays for guidance, studies up to his new level, and gets some more healing potions.

Nowhere along the way in any of this do any of the party members get accosted by the believers of a God or Gods opposed to Dashiel's Diety. At no point does Dashiel get called to the floor by the higher ups in his church for associating with the likes of Beanpole (a known murderer!). The Church just sort of sits there and acts as a clearing house for magical cures and curse removal, really. Is this all the fault of the Game Master? Partly, inasmuch as the life's breath of any particular game session comes from the GM, but mostly, it's on the shoulders of the writers. Yes, most FRPG's will say "God X is ruler of the domains of A, B, and C, and their clergy are expected to do D, E, and F," but beyond that, they're all window dressing and theater facades. Not even in the old Forgotten Realms edition-transition modules, where the Gods walked over all of Faerun, and the PC's were directly involved with the machinations and manipulations of the various Deities, did the churches really get active and start going about doing Church-y things. By and large, if it's a temple or church in a FRPG, it will pretty much sit there and cater to the late-night-raise-dead crowd.

And really, this isn't at all reflective of how churches work in the real world. Churches meddle. They buy land up and hold it "in trust for the people." They act as soup kitchens. They offer up weddings and funerals. In many societies, before - and even sometimes after - the invention of the concept of the separation of powers (ie, Church and State), they are the primary sources of legality and justice. Churches run the every day lives of the faithful through prayer, education, medicine, and in many cases, determining who can and cannot marry freely. Now, perhaps it was because I was busily going through a number of years of religious studies in college while I was first formulating the world of Under Sleeping Suns, and maybe it was because of my formative years being spent watching the influence that each of their particular faiths had on the various branches of my family, but the general "there"-ness that the various religions of the FRPG's I'd cut my teeth on always seemed so very lacking, to me.

Enter the Church Of The Nine.

Building up the Allied Nations as a whole, I decided early on that the cultures of Angarn, Cymrik, Vetris, and the Cualish Free States would be based on the various European, Middle-Eastern, and Northern African nations that had spawned my favorite myths. Kever draws heavily on Egypt and Babylon, while Harak-Ur is built firmly upon materials sucked out of Sumeria/Akkadia, the more dismal and dark aspects of Eastern European mythology, and the like. "Modern" Loris reflects the various spiritual enlightenment phases of southern Europe and the Middle East, as well as drawing in a goodly amount of Native American (Northeastern Atlantic and Pacific Northwest, specifically) philosophy to round some things out. All of these influences rely very heavily on faith, spiritual belief, and the very central and primal pillar of any medieval culture: The Church.

One of the fun things about the COTN is that it's essentially an intruder-religion - the Eternal Kings (possibly very rightly) saw themselves as the true inheritors of the power of the Gods Of Light And Darkness after Kever fell, and by and large didn't want to give up their power to these Deities from somewhere else. Even though the Gods Of The Nine eventually took their power back (at least in the case of Graalis, Astares, and their children), the entirety of the pantheon of the COTN are more or less usurpers of the power the Eternal Kings once held. Now, the people of the Allied Nations are all well aware of this - it's in every one of their holy books. Each of the Books Of The Nine recounts quite clearly that The Nine pretty much stole the power that the Eternal Kings held, and did so in order to make the world a better place. This is doubly compounded by the fact that Loris has no Creation Myth, as previously stated. Without that sense of primacy - without that statement of "We made this world, and we can unmake it, so do what we say or else!" - The Nine cannot simply ride roughshod over their believers. So, even though they're doing right by the people of Loris, they're also very much in a sort of religio-political hot seat: If they got their power from the Eternal Kings, who's to say their power can't be taken away or given to someone else when Fire Falls From The Sky, Everything Resets, New Era Dawns?

(Ostensibly) not being fools, the Gods Of The Nine have therefore done their level best to make sure that the people love them. As this is a FRPG, and the Gods, therefore, are real, they've empowered their clergy with very clear and defined duties in terms of Making Society Work. This is done in the name of the various Gods Of The Nine, as befits their particular area of control. Moran The Keeper demands that knowledge be shared and spread. Education, once held in super-secret-reserve by the Eternal Kings for only their most trusted thralls, is therefore a mandate of the Church. All children between the ages of six and sixteen are required to spend half their day in school, at the Temple, seven of the ten months of the calendar year. Goran The Thundermaker, as God of Storms, Battle, and Farming, teaches that there is no honor in wanton destruction and demands that his clergy be of sound mind and spirit - they practice both armed and unarmed combat, but also tend to fields and farms. Often, the truest measure of a Thundermaker is not how many battles he has won, but how many fields he's tilled and turned fruitful. This is repeated throughout The Nine - each of the Houses sets about actively involving itself in some aspect of the daily lives of the people. Lubricating, if you will, the wheels of society and doing its dead level best to make people's lives better.

The Church Of The Nine, therefore, insinuates itself into every aspect of the daily lives of the Allied Nations. It educates the young, maintains the courts and judicial system (The Restbringers are judges, bailiffs, prosecutors and defenders), sees to the quality of wines (The Starhands took this over from The Luckbringers, as it happens), and oversees the health and safety of the people of the land - from the smallest hamlet all the way up to Lendar, million-strong capital of Angarn herself. It stops just short, however, of influencing the actual act of running things, however. The people of the Four Nations have long memories, and recall a time when those with Divine Power held complete political power. As The Nine rather like having agency on Loris, and as the example of what happens when a God takes over the affairs of state in the Waking World is given by way of the nation of Kolantha, this arrangement suits them just fine.

This is not to say that everyone gets along famously and there is never any conflict. Cultural and historical prejudices remain, and crop up in the places one would expect them to in our own world. The various rights and privileges of women in Vetris, for example, are very different than those in many of the Cualish Free States. The Haran and Ulehu are treated with far more respect in Angarn than they are in Cymrik, and only a few dozen miles of water separate those two nations. The COTN does what it can - but just as in the real world, many traditions and established methods of doing things run deep. What your culture does and what your religion says are often two very, very different things.