Neonchameleon said:
I find "Member of the 1% of orcs that wasn't killed and didn't starve on the way to adulthood" to be much more human and understandable than something built round hatred. And find the idea that all orcs rejected civilisation in lockstep to be creepy and almost unrelateable - something weird is going on if no one differs on this point.
To me, that's weird. Hatred is something that I think most people have experienced at some point in their lives to one degree or another (even if it's just "Dang. I hate Justin Beiber."), but being the sole survivor of a generation is not exactly an experience many have had. Hatred is ubiquitous enough that religious leaders and generally peaceful people discuss it in very intimate terms.
The rejection of civilization is just an expression of that hatred. I think a lot of people have had the idea, in a fit of impotent anger at traffic or their job or at other peoples' stupidity, that it would just be nice to abandon it all and go start again in the wilderness without any of that junk, just you and an axe and your appetites. Orcs as I've seen them are a fictional and fantastic expression of that desire, which springs in part from that dislike of other people that all human beings on some level feel occasionally. If orcs are filled to the brim with an intense dislike of the rest of the world, why would they want to build a civilization? Why not just tear it down, feast on its remains, and move on to the next town? You might have to risk your life a little more, but you don't have to till the fields, or pay a tax, or rely on a specialist to build your house or shoe your horse. You're free -- free to express your dislike by taking what others have built, too.
As creatures of fantasy, Orcs as I see them are necessarily reflective of our own human hopes and dreams and nightmares. Fantasy is allegory, after all (even if it tries not to be). Orcs are a mirror held up to our anger and our violence, and so to present them in a way that has resonance, I think it's key to focus on that archetype.
As far as an explanation, I don't think you necessarily
need one. Cultures work in part by repeating actions and patterns of thought. The reason a thing is done is because it has been done. Orcs as I see them are raised in an environment that encourages them to hold on to hatred, to nurture their fury, to use their rage to empower them. They are told myths that justify this fury, telling of ancient wrongs done to their people by the gods of the elves and the dwarves and the humans. True or exaggerated or not, they help the orc become familiar with the tense, stomach-churning feeling of being wronged, and then they are told to hold onto that, to cling to it because it will make them strong, to feel that red burning blood in their veins as the origin of their self-worth, the only thing that makes them worthy of respect and acceptance. When little Orc children come crying to their mothers about how Kregor beat them up, their mothers slap them for being weak and expecting sympathy. They tell their children to find Kregor, and beat HIM up, and if they can't do that, to nurture this feeling of pain and shame until they are strong enough to do it. "Don't expect me to do anything about it, whelp," their mother snarls. "If he is stronger than you, I'd rather have him for my child, anyway." The origins of these mores may lie deep in the mythic past with Gruumsh and his battles with the other gods, but the exact history doesn't matter so much. What matters is that to belong to orc culture is to embrace that fury. Living any other way would be as weird for a typical orc as it would be for you to be asked to live like a rural Indonesian.
Of course, as a game element, people can take them in their own directions if they want. If fish-like spawning fatherless orcs works for you at your table, that's boffo. I don't think they'd work at mine (too much emphasis on biology, not enough emphasis on the play experience of putting them in the game), but it's whatever.
