Libertad
Legend
This chapter's different from the others on account that it's a series of essays and one short story focusing on different aspects of Koboa. Organized into eight essays by various authors, two of them primarily talk about in-universe events, while the remainder primarily cover design decisions and DMing advice for various aspects of Koboa.
The Boa and the Albatross is a two-part short story covering a brief history of the Tairiú people, an Indigenous group who the Larensians ruthlessly attacked and gradually conquered. The story centers on Kaēriop, who had visions of a serpent devouring an albatross, which was taken to be a bad omen. He undergoes training under the Nakren, a religious seer who can commune with spirits. Kaēriop is initially reluctant, wanting instead to be a more secular leader like his father, but eventually finds himself fulfilling the prophetic vision and helping safeguard his people. This is when he takes the form of a serpent spirit in death, killing the chief of the Albatross Clan who had betrayed his people by working with the Larensians.
Thoughts: Notable in being entirely in-character and the longest of the essays, the Boa and the Albatross provides us with a more personal, "street-level view" of the Larensian colonization and the subsequent wars. Giving names to the people and showing the negative effects of the invasion makes the circumstances of this fictional history feel more impactful beyond just what one might get via the typical omniscient third-person narration.
Can I Play Koboa If I'm Not Latine? is our first out of character essay and much shorter than the prior entry, posing a common question in some progressive communities who have an overly-broad definition of "cultural appropriation." The essay's answer is an unequivocal yes, going into detail on how Latin America itself draws upon many cultures, and the common sentiment of "you shouldn't engage with media made by PoC/marginalized people" is primarily done to guilt people which doesn't make for good politics and avoids the fact that the First World built a lot of itself off the exploitation of others and that one's decision on whether or not to play a game doesn't change this.
Thoughts: Personally speaking, while I agree with the core argument, I feel that it either ignores or is unaware of the larger problematic trend of bad actors in progressive spaces using the aesthetic talking points to advance reactionary and bigoted agendas.
Cultural appropriation can be reasonable in regards to elements in minority communities that get inappropriately used by outsiders who don't know or care of its meaning or purpose. For example, there are Lakota Native Americans who don't want outsiders and civilians to wear the war bonnet, which is only reserved for those among their number who've seen combat.
Such understandable sentiments are then extended by both misinformed do-gooders and ill-intentioned bigots to say "adopting any element from a minority culture is cultural appropriation, and therefore bad." This happened when some such people engaged in shaming non-Japanese buying kimonos and wearing them. In reality, the vast majority of Japanese are fine with outsiders doing this, as the kimono doesn't hold the same level of sacred influence as a religious insignia, nor is it similar to the concerns over stolen valor regarding misuse of something like the war bonnet. But the practical effect is that the kimono industry makes a lot of overseas sales, and discouraging people from engaging with a cultural element that its creators are happy with sharing will harm sales for PoC-owned businesses. I personally feel like the kind of person who would be asking the question posed by the essay is the kind of person who is reluctant to buy this kind of book in the first place, and is most likely being influenced by regressives larping as progressives. Which I feel is the deeper root of the problem, as opposed to just white liberal guilt.
Centering Indigenous Joy & Healing from Colonization in Collaborative Storytelling talks about how one can run Koboa to be different from the standards in fantasy gaming that can reinforce narratives which downplay or even inadvertently justify colonialism. For example, the essay counters the idea that Indigenous cultures are now "lost" and cannot be practiced in the modern day, that in both the real world and Koboa there are Indigenous practices and beliefs that are still being upheld and have adapted with the times as well as once-inactive practitioners fostering reconnections. Another example is the use of spirits, magical creatures, and other such "monsters" to not exist primarily to be fought and slain. Suggestions are given for quests where they're aided or healed, as it wasn't just mortals who suffered from colonization. The writer strongly advises against giving the idea that Indigenous people will adopt the same oppressive patterns as their colonizers if allowed to regain sovereignty, as well as objecting to the "oppressed becoming oppressors" as a media trope in and of itself. The essayist claims that it indirectly states that such narratives in fiction advance ideas that oppression shouldn't be condemned, that Indigenous people are inherently unfit to govern themselves, and that land sovereignty would lead to war and chaos "when in reality, nothing could be further from the truth."
Additionally, the discussion of the dungeon-delving adventuring trope is one that at its core has some parallels with colonialism: people exploring the remnants of a civilization and gathering its art, wealth, and knowledge to sell to rich patrons. The essayist posits that the core of dungeon-delving can be preserved in Koboa, but that the primary aim should be to help reclaim them for communities who had to abandon them due to war, forced resettlement, and other calamities. The Stoneseekers organization was made with this in mind, of directing adventuring towards a more ethical goal. An example given in their own campaign was the Temple of Joy, where various clues pieced together songs and other artwork produced by the former inhabitants, showing that this place was once a lively realm where people lived and thrived.
Thoughts: There's quite a bit of good advice here, and I like the idea of "ethical adventuring" via restoring dungeons to their former roles, showing that they once had more practical uses beyond "deathtrap fortress full of monsters and obstacles."
I don't agree with the idea that "oppressed becoming oppressors" is a bad and inaccurate trope in and of itself. While the essayist is primarily talking about Indigenous rights groups, there is an unfortunate precedent that suffering and trauma don't inherently make one more aware and empathetic. There's also the fact that in both past history as well as in modern times, there's multiple instances of marginalized groups allying with the very same people who oppressed them for a variety of reasons. None of which are good reasons, by the way, but there are still progressives who act like they see a unicorn whenever they encounter a person of color or queer person who is a Neo-Nazi, reactionary, or otherwise a fellow traveler.
There's also the fact that in this sourcebook, there are some majority-Indigenous groups that pursue violent ends and even terrorism that puts them at odds with other Indigenous people. Notably the Hãirakwin in the Mallgot Accords, and their sympathizer in the Council being portrayed as a ruthless politician. Or the Army of the Last King in Novpo, who wants to restore the Gosán Empire (which itself engaged in conquest) and are opposed to the kingdom of New Gosán due to having mutually-exclusive views on who is the legitimate inheritor of that empire's legacy. While the book of Koboa as a whole unequivocally portrays Larensian colonialism as bad and that Koboa is better off without it, the setting's portrayal of Indigenous people (as well as other groups) is more multi-faceted in showing that they have many ideas and ideals on what they want society to look like. And thus can be heroes, villains, and everything in between.
Forms: a Decolonial Analogy for Transness opens up with discussing how contemporary fantasy frequently echoes biological determinism, the idea that one's social and cultural views and behaviors are rooted in biology. It goes further in discussing how even moral frameworks in such fiction build off of racial divisions. The Koboan concept of Form Maps was a framing of the European idea of race by having one's, well, Form be both changeable and an expression of bonds with wider communities. The journey of self-reflection and transforming one's body to better reflect a new identity has parallels to the experiences of many queer people, and also reflects how many Latin American cultures had broader ideas of sex and gender than that which Western colonization imposed upon them. For one example, the essayist talks about how the chanov Form in particular can be an allegory for Latin Americans who reject such rigid categories, such as the travestis and muxes. The book does mention that yes, Maps can be one way of transitioning in regards to gender identities.
Thoughts: This essay does a great job of highlighting the strengths of Form Maps as a thematic tool in the setting, and showing how it works as a multi-purpose metaphor. That of finding a role or inner self that one is at peace with, as well as the fluid views of race, ethnicity, and culture in Latin America that stand in contrast to the more unchangeable nature of Tolkienish fantasy races.
One thing I do want to touch on is that the book does contradict itself later on the "biological determinism informs morality" aspect for some monsters in the following chapter. But that will be better explained in the post after this one.
Healing Rituals in Koboa talks about how people of the continent deal with diseases, injuries, and other afflictions. There's a variety of nonmagical and magical forms of healing: folk cures and remedies passed between generations reinforced by herbalism and pharmacies being the most common kinds, with mundane surgeons and physicians and spellcasters being more professional forms. For those with conditions that cannot benefit from such help, there's a third type of practitioners known as ritual healers. This occupation draws their training from a variety of techniques which can differ widely between communities, but what it shares in common is the use of proscribed behavior and repetitions that make the healing ritual in nature. Most ritual healers do not accept payment for their services, instead being compensated by their communities with more indirect forms of social currency and coming to their aid when the healer falls on hard times.
Ritual healing is mostly a plot device in terms of game mechanics, serving as adventure hooks like an NPC needing a certain MacGuffin or quest undertaken in order to perform the ritual. For more direct use in gameplay, the book suggests having the DM reflavor the verbal and/or material components of healing spells to be in line with the above.
Thoughts: This is a neat form of worldbuilding, although I feel that the suggested game mechanics try and fail to bridge the "plot device vs actual rules" gap. I would've preferred to see something more concrete like a house rule, optional feat, or the like.
On Playing Indigenous Characters is another metacommentary taking the form of advice for Koboan campaigns. This time it has guidelines for players as well as DMs. The book mentions that while some groups in the setting are based off of real-world people, they have been careful to do their best in both avoiding harmful stereotypes and not including culturally sensitive information.
This essay starts out with a discussion about the players and DM collaborating on the creation of Indigenous PCs. For example, being aware that a lot of fiction made by non-Natives can harbor stereotypes of Indigenous people, listening to concerns from Indigenous players/GMs, for Indigenous players to bring up elements that "don't feel right" with someone in the group to ensure it doesn't keep happening, and a Session Zero style discussion on what aspects regarding colonization and other heavy subject should occur in the campaign. This essay also talks about striking a balance in the portrayals of Indigenous cultures and NPCs, such as avoiding making the majority passive victims who need others to solve all their problems, or having most Indigenous NPCs be antagonists to be killed and looted for gold and experience points.
Thoughts: Quite a bit of this advice is stuff that I've heard as part of broader subjects beyond just Indigenous issues, like Session Zero, but is applicable here. One thing that I liked, even if only delved into briefly, was the discussion on "culturally sensitive information." While not the only cultures this applies to, there are many Indigenous Americans groups who are wary of certain aspects of their history, folklore, and/or religions being adopted into entertainment media. There's a variety of reasons for this which vary depending on the group, but it is an issue I see pop up frequently in regards to portrayal of Fantasy Counterpart Indigenous Americans. So it's good to see that Koboa's writers were aware of that.
Physical Disability in Koboa is a short essay talking about societal views on disabilities, as well as the inevitable Session Zero suggestion for group discussion. The essay discusses how Koboan society was and is generally accommodating for people with physical disabilities, and the Larensian Empire was much less so due to having eugenics-style views. The book notes that even this isn't universal. Ableism in modern Koboa comes not only from the specter of Larensian influence, but also from the inevitable questions of how much give and take there should be for accommodations and how this should be done. For example, some people believe that disabilities are a non-issue due to the view that one could "simply use Form Maps to change their bodies," which in turn ignores how some disabled people might not wish to do this on account that their disabilities inform a large part on how they sense and interact with the world. There's much more social pressure and less accommodations for disabled people in the rainforest and mountainous environments, on account that these environments are quite restrictive and require much more resources to be accommodating. For campaigns that wish to include ableism as a social problem to fight against, neo-Conquistadores and Nueva Vardia are listed as particularly appropriate, although it acknowledges that such prejudice can and does appear anywhere.
Thoughts: Given the huge scope and spectrum of physical disabilities out there, it is hard for me to say how useful this essay is beyond the broadest of strokes. It does raise inevitable questions of to what extent Form changing can be used to heal physical maladies. Can adopting a new Form regrow a lost limb, or cure an incurable affliction? What if someone switches back to their "original" Form upon adopting another for a cure? Do they become disabled again? This essay doesn't really answer that, which I feel is a missed opportunity as I can see this coming up in gaming sessions.
Running a Game with Forms is our final essay, talking about the implementation of Forms and Form Maps and how it makes the setting different from ones where race/physical features are more set in stone. First off, most Koboan civilizations have taken on the ideal that Forms should be accessible to all people. This arose due to the Larensian Empire restricting, destroying, and stealing Form Maps as a means of removing important pieces of cultural identities from the people they conquered. While nations engage in a lot of wheeling and dealing for international trade and movement, no nation in recent history has ever outright banned access to any of its Maps. Nueva Vardia was the most recent exception, allowing full access to the Elf Map around 60 years ago. Pilgrimages to Maps are a common form of travel, and Maps that can be moved are often taken on tour across the continent to allow for easier access to those who cannot travel.
That being said, there are cases where this ideal doesn't match up to reality. In the case of the Elf Map, one still needs to go through lots of paperwork for access, and there are some smaller groups who grant access to Maps via some task, trial, or test. Sometimes this can be trivial or otherwise done by most people who put in the effort, such as someone choosing their Map as a coming-of-age celebration; gathering materials of special significance to the Map or culture; or contributing something of value to the community, such as a scientific discovery or a poem or story for the Etelgot. Other trials can be tougher, such as surviving by yourself in the Talá Rainforest for 3 days, or hunting down a corrupted monster and capturing or killing it.
Thoughts: I do like settings that provide a societal ideal that is hard to live up to, but isn't consistently adhered to for a variety of reasons. It feels both plausible due to being a consistent thing in the real world, while also showcasing how the worthiest goals take effort to emulate. That being said, I got the feeling that the essayist wasn't aware of or didn't really emphasize this. The use of Larensians and Nueva Vardians as being more conservative and restrictive than the rest of the continent is a common element, but the Elf Map bureaucracy was the only thing showcased as a failure of the ideal via its text, which noted that calling the process unrestricted "is a bit of a stretch." The sample trials for Form Map access isn't spoken of in the same manner, instead being part of another section discussing how different cultures attach metaphorical weight to Forms. Going back to the prior essay on discussion of ableism, having some Maps requiring surviving in the wilderness for days on end or hunting down a dangerous monster does mean that for some people, some Forms are off the table. Personally speaking I don't have a problem with this, as societies are hypocritical, but I get the vibe that the text wasn't aware of this or explicitly acknowledged how this runs up against "Forms should be accessible to everyone" as a universal ideal.
Thoughts So Far: The essays have a good mix of useful advice and world-building, although I've noticed quite a few cases where such advice and statements contradict other aspects of the book. I can only guess, but I imagine that having a large number of writers and designers means that certain individual visions are going to run against each other. This is inevitable for any large project, but ideally such visions get smoothed out into something more unified to avoid confusing readers. This might be easily explained away should one see the essays of this chapter as individual takes. But as several of these essays speak of the world of Koboa in a more omniscient narration vs "this is my own personal take on the setting," such discordance pops out to me.
Join us next time as we finish this review in Chapter 5: Creatures!
Last edited:
