rjs
First Post
When I was in Nottingham last year, I had the privelege of getting an explanation of Warhammer's often nebulous nature from a fabulous guy named Paul (who's the GW liason at Mythic). He has several different explanations for ways to think about Warhammer, but the best in my estimation is to regard it as "the thing in the shed." Only a handful of people have the keys. They get the big picture. The rest of us never get a look at the whole thing, the big, ugly abomination that is the Warhammer idea. Instead, if we're lucky, we get a peek, a glimpse of the thing through a knot hole in the side of the building. This is never a full view, just one look from one very narrow perspective. Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay is one, Mordheim is another, Warhammer Quest is yet another still, just as Warhammer Fantasy Battles (in all of its incarnations) are more views. The novels and short stories and video games and CCGS and all the other forms Warhammer takes are all but flashes, brief exposures to the thing that is Warhammer.
The point of this anecdote is that debate about a general acceptance of Wizards (Magisters) versus widespread fear and suspicion is meaningless, because both are right. Yes. The common man craps his britches when the Magisters stroll by. And it's also true that when some twit lobs a fireball in the middle of a village you can bet on Sigmar's Sizzling Sausage his fate is to be beaten, tortured, and then burned at the stake by Sigmar-fearing peasants who dread the coming of the Witch Hunters.
And yet, it's also true that the Magisters learned their trade and craft from the great high mage Teclis who founded the Orders of Magic in the Empire in the wake of the Great War against Chaos. Many Magisters have places within the courts of nobles, are involved--to some extent--in the politics of the lands and command great respect and influence in the Empire. Battle wizards (and no, we're not talking about 1e characters of the same name) are a breed of spellcasters whose capacity for violence must be checked by the orders lest they lose control and devestate chunks of the Empire in a fit of passion. Wizards can destroy swathes of mortals at a time and through their foibles, they can tear the guts out of reality and find themselves drawn bodily into the Realm of Chaos where they will be tortured by gibbering daemons for eternity.
All of this is true. But it's also a matter of scope. You won't see careers for King/Emperor/Grand Theogonist/et al in WFRP because its perspective is centers on common people put in uncommon situations. It is a nasty game where life is cheap and the fate of "heroes" is to wind up drowning in a puddle of mud, with your shorts full of crap, a wriggling tentacle working its way out your back, and a tear in your intestines that will kill you in about 3 days. As an adventurer, you're going to die a messy, and probably darkly funny, death. You might sprout a nest of tentacles topped with blinking eyeballs after taking a bullet from a warplock jezzail, crap yourself comatose after a swig of tainted water, have to have a surgeon cut into your skull to extract a cavity worm that feasts on your exhales, or be served well-done to a ravenous orc on a bed of your own guts.
As grim and perilous as WFRP is, what makes this game buckets of fun in my opinion is that you go in knowing your fate, knowing you are doomed. It's the rich setting, the environment, and the thrilling adventure that keeps you coming back to the table. And if you manage to live through being a peasant, if you somehow step from holding a bucket of your lord's leavings, you get to enjoy the heady sense of accomplishment after being drafted by the Army of Nuln to fight a doomed battle holding a pass against a horde of frothing Kurgan and twisted mutants shrieking and twittering in the night, calling for the blessings of their foul and hideous gods as they drag screaming soldiers to their dooms.
So when you hear someone claim to have the definitive story about Warhammer, be suspicious. Warhammer can be many things, but what sets it apart is not exhaustive minutia about how many crops are grown in an acre field or how many many pounds of excrement flow through the sewers of Altdorf each day or a definitive story about what Karl Franz ate or the color of his griffon's eyes, but rather Warhammer is a mood and an atmosphere.
Hope this helps.
The point of this anecdote is that debate about a general acceptance of Wizards (Magisters) versus widespread fear and suspicion is meaningless, because both are right. Yes. The common man craps his britches when the Magisters stroll by. And it's also true that when some twit lobs a fireball in the middle of a village you can bet on Sigmar's Sizzling Sausage his fate is to be beaten, tortured, and then burned at the stake by Sigmar-fearing peasants who dread the coming of the Witch Hunters.
And yet, it's also true that the Magisters learned their trade and craft from the great high mage Teclis who founded the Orders of Magic in the Empire in the wake of the Great War against Chaos. Many Magisters have places within the courts of nobles, are involved--to some extent--in the politics of the lands and command great respect and influence in the Empire. Battle wizards (and no, we're not talking about 1e characters of the same name) are a breed of spellcasters whose capacity for violence must be checked by the orders lest they lose control and devestate chunks of the Empire in a fit of passion. Wizards can destroy swathes of mortals at a time and through their foibles, they can tear the guts out of reality and find themselves drawn bodily into the Realm of Chaos where they will be tortured by gibbering daemons for eternity.
All of this is true. But it's also a matter of scope. You won't see careers for King/Emperor/Grand Theogonist/et al in WFRP because its perspective is centers on common people put in uncommon situations. It is a nasty game where life is cheap and the fate of "heroes" is to wind up drowning in a puddle of mud, with your shorts full of crap, a wriggling tentacle working its way out your back, and a tear in your intestines that will kill you in about 3 days. As an adventurer, you're going to die a messy, and probably darkly funny, death. You might sprout a nest of tentacles topped with blinking eyeballs after taking a bullet from a warplock jezzail, crap yourself comatose after a swig of tainted water, have to have a surgeon cut into your skull to extract a cavity worm that feasts on your exhales, or be served well-done to a ravenous orc on a bed of your own guts.
As grim and perilous as WFRP is, what makes this game buckets of fun in my opinion is that you go in knowing your fate, knowing you are doomed. It's the rich setting, the environment, and the thrilling adventure that keeps you coming back to the table. And if you manage to live through being a peasant, if you somehow step from holding a bucket of your lord's leavings, you get to enjoy the heady sense of accomplishment after being drafted by the Army of Nuln to fight a doomed battle holding a pass against a horde of frothing Kurgan and twisted mutants shrieking and twittering in the night, calling for the blessings of their foul and hideous gods as they drag screaming soldiers to their dooms.
So when you hear someone claim to have the definitive story about Warhammer, be suspicious. Warhammer can be many things, but what sets it apart is not exhaustive minutia about how many crops are grown in an acre field or how many many pounds of excrement flow through the sewers of Altdorf each day or a definitive story about what Karl Franz ate or the color of his griffon's eyes, but rather Warhammer is a mood and an atmosphere.
Hope this helps.
