jdrakeh
Front Range Warlock
So, I'm trapped at home today, waiting for a few phone calls so that I can get my finances stabilized when I wait for my contract at HP to begin in a few weeks (Yay! Contract work!). To that end, I'm going to so see how much of a setting I can compile in the space of an afternoon/evening. You, too, should give it a try (the "edit" button will obviously come in handy here). Here's where I am going to start:
Click Here for My Basic Inspiration
I should note that I've never played the game God of War. That said, I read a lot of Penny Arcade (too much, proabably). The strip linked to above sets up the default PC power level for my setting (uber-heroic) and the basic premise (uhm. . . PCs are hunt and kill god-like entities). So, grab your sword, strap on your Flagranthian full plate, and get ready to reclaim the world in. . .
The Shattered Planet
The Shattered Planet was long ago shattered by the rigors of war. The gods themselves marched upon one another with murder in their hearts, each seeking to smite their brothers and sisters, their mothers and fathers, their sons and daughters. And in the end, they succeeded. They all suceeded. Today, there are no gods.
In the absence of divine influence, the Shattered Planet has slowly succumbed to entropy. Once blue skies are choked with clouds of sicky green that filter out the rays of the sun, while crimson fog of unknown origin casts its pallor over the world's low lying lands. All that remain of the world's once lush forests are the skeletal fingers of trees long dead.
And then, there are the war machines -- the foot soldiers of that ancient war. Massive constructs fashioned of stone and metal, arraigned in alien heraldry, the war machines of the dead gods still prowl the wasted world, killing thousands without mercy, destroying entire towns, scouring the countryside. Carrying out their last orders.
Which leaves you.
You are not normal. Possessed of power undreamt of by normal mortals, you were branded a heretic by your people, cast out of your home, and forced to wander the wastes. You were a pariah, an unclean soul shunned by all those who knew you, a freak. Today, you are something different. Today, you are a hero.
In your years of exile, you have learned to use your powers. Today, you hunt the war machines of long dead gods, protecting those who once shunned you, fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. Today, you use your powers for good. You fight to restore the world to its former glory as described in the hearth tales of your youth.
There are those who would not have it.
Others like yourself, beings of power, have learned to twist their talents to horrible ends. Evil ends. These villains seek to control the ancient war machines and use them to enslave those who once persecuted them. Their evil ambitions have no limits. Animosity is brewing and, soon, the world will once again know war.
[Addendum: Obviously the setting in an afternoon didn't plan out. That said, I'm still working on this in my almost non-existant free time.]
Click Here for My Basic Inspiration
I should note that I've never played the game God of War. That said, I read a lot of Penny Arcade (too much, proabably). The strip linked to above sets up the default PC power level for my setting (uber-heroic) and the basic premise (uhm. . . PCs are hunt and kill god-like entities). So, grab your sword, strap on your Flagranthian full plate, and get ready to reclaim the world in. . .
The Shattered Planet
The Shattered Planet was long ago shattered by the rigors of war. The gods themselves marched upon one another with murder in their hearts, each seeking to smite their brothers and sisters, their mothers and fathers, their sons and daughters. And in the end, they succeeded. They all suceeded. Today, there are no gods.
In the absence of divine influence, the Shattered Planet has slowly succumbed to entropy. Once blue skies are choked with clouds of sicky green that filter out the rays of the sun, while crimson fog of unknown origin casts its pallor over the world's low lying lands. All that remain of the world's once lush forests are the skeletal fingers of trees long dead.
And then, there are the war machines -- the foot soldiers of that ancient war. Massive constructs fashioned of stone and metal, arraigned in alien heraldry, the war machines of the dead gods still prowl the wasted world, killing thousands without mercy, destroying entire towns, scouring the countryside. Carrying out their last orders.
Which leaves you.
You are not normal. Possessed of power undreamt of by normal mortals, you were branded a heretic by your people, cast out of your home, and forced to wander the wastes. You were a pariah, an unclean soul shunned by all those who knew you, a freak. Today, you are something different. Today, you are a hero.
In your years of exile, you have learned to use your powers. Today, you hunt the war machines of long dead gods, protecting those who once shunned you, fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. Today, you use your powers for good. You fight to restore the world to its former glory as described in the hearth tales of your youth.
There are those who would not have it.
Others like yourself, beings of power, have learned to twist their talents to horrible ends. Evil ends. These villains seek to control the ancient war machines and use them to enslave those who once persecuted them. Their evil ambitions have no limits. Animosity is brewing and, soon, the world will once again know war.
[Addendum: Obviously the setting in an afternoon didn't plan out. That said, I'm still working on this in my almost non-existant free time.]
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I usually default to Rich Staats's world-building articles, though in this instance I'm designing the setting with a specific system in mind (Chainmail/OD&D). I'll be certain to check that Greenwood article out!
