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by babbysama on Mon Jul 01, 2013 12:14 am
My question is this: how complex is too complex for an original world? Is it foolish to expect people to learn all the terminology, history, culture, backstory, etc. etc., even if it is voluminous, of your world in order to maintain a consistent setting?
I'm asking this because I have an idea for an RP, and would like it to be set in a universe that I've been working on for about three years or so now. I deliberately tried to make this world out of the typical conventions that are encountered in high
fantasy; it is heavily based upon the Middle East, Southeast Asia, Central Asia, India, and Mesoamerica, though I've crossed these with a million other things. There's a lot of weird terms, cultural and religious aspects, and stuff like that, that (not to toot my own horn or anything) I think are pretty complex. I was thinking about elaborating about these things very in depth with a series of articles, so that the RP'er can familiarize themselves, but is this asking too much? I want people to have fun too, not just be forced to abide by a strict code of my tryhardness. I have put a lot of work and thought into this though... Anyway, what are your thoughts on this?
Also, if you're interested, and for further context to my question, here is a very rough, truncated overview of the campaign that I'm thinking about doing. There are a lot of things that are left out and not factored in, so please remember that it's just a rough draft:
427 A.Y. 4th Year of the Opal
It has been four hundred and twenty seven years since the fall of the Yméu Empire.
At its height, it had pacified a continent, administering a blood-earned peace with a stern, but judicious hand. Beneath its auspices, an epoch of prosperity, scientific advancement, and, for the most part, peace, was forged. However, maintaining such an empire is like laying a foundation upon shifting sands. Eventually, nationalists, factional infighting, and religious unrest secured the Empire's ruin. The imperial capital, Léonneç, with its illustrious palaces and gilded temples, was sacked and relegated to the wolves. The Padishah and the Shahbanu were forced to flee to the lands of the Magister Artisans, while their retinues, the Shahajada, and the remainder of House Meijiheira were put to the sword. Throughout the continent, the old guard was swiftly, and mercilessly, replaced by the new.
Out of the ashes of the Empire, a multitude of states, principalities, suzerainties, fiefdoms, and republics have risen, each with their own ideologies and aspirations. However, the echo of the Empire is still heard. No major players have yet announced themselves to fill the Empire's void. The imperial tongue, PĂ©dwa, remains widely spoken, though colloquial tongues, pidgins, and creoles prevail. The ancient hymns of L'Ha-Yam still ring in the high halls of Pali. And while there is much new wealth, the fall has left a definite blemish upon trade. The future, such as it is, is uncertain. Tensions flare and die a moment later; insults are given only to be eagerly propitiated. All are on edge, waiting for the one feint that will tip the status quo one way or another. And that feint may soon be delivered.
In the Riviera D'Ăul-Da, the heartland of the old Empire, something is stirring. The fall of YmĂ©u left an vacuum in the Riviera unseen anywhere else on the continent. Hundreds of city-states claim their sovereignty; local warlords, highwaymen, mendicants, and zealots prowl the countryside, either preaching or begging or preying upon merchant caravans along the Four Roads. Without manpower to support their levies, the city states (those that could afford it) have turned to mercenary companies to maintain some semblance of order; however, always eager for more coin, these mercenaries are more often than not apathetic to the pleas of the gentle folk. Thus, chaos reigns in the countryside, and, regrettably, within the cities themselves. The governments, callow as they are, are rife with corruption and inefficiency; ethnic, factional, and religious violence threaten to tear some cities apart; and despite the influx of commerce and foreign trade and bountiful harvests, coffers and granaries often come up empty. Peasant revolts and their subsequent pogroms have created an atmosphere of nigh endless violence, scarcity, and dismay.
Despite this, some players of the game of thrones have arisen. Eight city states have claimed primacy among the many, and these, consequently, are the largest, the most prosperous, and the most powerful. Of these eight, five are in league with the Gowa Confederacy, the Riviera's rising star, a trade union bound by a mutual defense pact. Depicted by its enemies as a coiling serpent, the Confederacy continues to recruit new members; and despite some cities' reluctance, there are legitimate benefits to entering into the union. Additionally, the Confederacy fields the largest army of any state in the Riviera, and enlists the powerful Baquo Company of mercenaries. Their true intentions, however, are as yet undisclosed; what is certain is that they have significantly affected the balance of power in D'Ăul-Da.
Then there is Léonneç, the ancient imperial capital which has been reborn with the boom of its silk trade. Lying at the crossroads of the Four Roads and along the Yona River, the city has always been a vital commercial center; and despite the fall of the Empire which once gave it its pedigree and its sacking soon after, Léonneç has once again made a name for itself. Its silk (which Su-Jo hailed as "the grandest portent of the world") and, to a lesser degree, its cotton industry, is so vital that the Duchy of Lléybo has guaranteed its independence. Even so, the city is plagued by the conflicts of the region, and the Tribunal, the oligarchic council that serves as the city's ruling body, has proven time and again to be culpable to kick-backs, bribes, subterfuge, and discrimination. In addition, the city serves as the headquarters of the Hafza, the trans-continental league of assassins, another relic of the old Empire.
Qébat lies at the foot of the Oidamat Range, in the lush Yul Valley. With its broad sugar plantations, tea fields, and rice terraced hills, it has some of the most fertile soil (another of Su-Jo's famous apellations: "One has but to dip one's fingers in Yul dirt to write one's name."), one of the most clement climates, and some of the most abundant harvests in the Riviera. Consequently, the people of Qébat, in this era of scarcity, are the best-fed. A wise man once said, "An army marches on its stomach." Though the legions of Qébat are not vast in number, they are renown throughout the world as fearsome warriors. To lay siege to the city, it is said, is to lay siege to the hills themselves. The Qébati have mastered the art of guerilla warfare, with an unknowable variety of traps and subterfuges at their disposal; on the open field, their expertise in archery and throwing weapons becomes apparent, with great cedar bows so heavy that they must be fired with one end on the ground, and barbed javelins laced with mortal poisons. The city is ruled by a single minister, known as the Ritualist, who utilizes divination and ancestor-majicks to help guide them in timmes of crisis. The Congress arbitrates upon public and fiscal policy, with the close association of the Ritualist, and the Junta determines military and foreign policy. Located at the headwaters of the Yona River, Qébat also plays an important role in river commerce and shipping. To most, Qébat is a wild card. The current Ritualist, Luan Sur Heb, has had little to say of the escalating tensions in the region, and, though the city has many allies, it could not be said that it has many friends, except perhaps for a close relationship with Léonneç. The Gowa Confederacy views the city as one of its greatest threats, and has been reluctant to act for or against it.
Finally, there is Celocombo, the City of Jasmine, and your home. In the imperial era, Celocombo was second only to LĂ©onneç in grandeur, wealth, and import. Situated at the tip of the OlmĂșz Peninsula, the southernmost point of the continent, the city is home to a broad, deep harbor, that has made it the default port of call for almost all foreign trade. The city was the Empire's lifeblood, perhaps its greatest commercial and cultural center; indeed, the Empire might not have fallen had it not been for the final insurrection of Celocombo. The cultivation of ozi rice, indigo, tea, cotton, sugar cane, and spices, as well as the iron and gem laden hills, have ensured the city its prosperity, but it is trade that has made it what it is. Celocombo lies at the end of the Topaz Road, the longest of the Four Roads, and is the traditional final stop for merchant caravans from around the continent; this, along with the bustling port, has transformed the city into perhaps the most cosmopolitan in the world entire. Peoples of a thousand nations, speaking a thousand tongues and dialects, hawk the arcades of the bazaars and markets, dealing in a diamonds and silks and sandalwood; sailors, here for day or a lifetime, crowd the wharves and whorehouses, downing jars of the city's famous palm toddy or rice wine and plates of fried sun peas and saltfish. Even the lingua franca of the city, Angáșč, reflects a deep seated multiculturalism, being some quadroon amalgam of PĂ©dwa, Jyodi, Uruz, and JwĂąr. Being a port city, Celocombo places much stock upon its navy. Though most of the flotilla is comprised of the trade fleet, the militant arm is certainly formidable, being the greatest naval power upon the Gulf of Abela and a significant obstacle to Confederate aims on the seas. However, the land armies of Celocombo are mostly comprised of mercenaries and a handful of levies; and despite the city's wealth, the mercenaries are gradually beginning to place a great strain upon the coffers, and are becoming more and more difficult to placate. The city is governed by the Grand Primarch, along with a legislative body known as the Diet. Tensions are quickly escalating between Celocombo and the Confederacy, especially after Ise, perhaps Celocombo's most enduring ally, was brought to the Confederate side. It is evident that the Confederacy has designs for Celocombo, and whether or not they will be willing to act upon those designs is a point of much contention; will Celocombo be the first to contend with Gowa on the battlefield? Much is uncertain; but what is clear is that the Riviera, and the continent itself, is on the cusp of movement. Whether it is Gowa's will to empire, or something entirely different, remains to be seen.
Thus opens 427 A.Y., the 4th Year of the Opal. You are mercenaries with the Tchanu, a conglomerate of sellswords that are known affectionately as "noble rogues". Though your love of coin is no less diminished, you acutely aware of your good reputation and are intent upon maintaining it. Thus, you have earned the trust and favor of the Celocomban government, and a number of privileges that put you a head above the rest. You are provided for and paid excellently. Your captain, Bara, holds a seat upon the war council, and is privy to much of the intelligence and espionage that passes in and out of the city. You have proved invaluable in maintaining the security of the city an incalculable number of times. Thus, it is no surprise when you are enlisted to escort an archaeological team to a site on the northern border. Their mission: to discover the Cache of Ulmoradjer, the tomb of the mythical dynast-lord of antiquity, within which are enshrined secrets and treasures which are thought to be immeasurable. What you find, or do not find, there might come to shape the future of your city, and, perhaps, that of Anumhtet-Kiron itself, and what might appear insignificant will come to have consequences that will bring nations to their knees and put armies to the sword. These are the times in which the cloth of history is woven, either with deft hands or clumsy needlework.
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