Deep reality is a wild, scary place – scary enough that unless you have supernatural mojo on your side the unfiltered nature of reality will fuck you the fuck up.
Realising they needed safe havens – because whilst they might be able to survive in the Umbra themselves, their spouses, children, apprentices and other non-magic using loved ones and dependants couldn’t – the Traditions of Magecraft each created their own sub-world, populated by folk after their own heart. Each sub-world expresses only part of the whole of the true reality, and the selection of which part was based on the philosophical priorities of the Tradition in question.
The Technocracy was meant to provide the middle ground, their corner of the multiverse a place run not according to any higher spiritual philosophy but according to the cold logic of reductionist materialism. It was meant to be a place where those who did not wish to serve the Traditions could live and thrive, and where agents of the Traditions could meet in a place which lacked the dangers of deep reality but equally was not biased towards one Tradition or another. But what began as an experiment in seeing what humans could create without the aid of magic became a power trip. The Technocracy declared their universe the True Reality, and the sub-worlds of the various traditions heretical Deviant Realities. A brutal Ascension War began as the fragile peace collapsed. The Traditions refuse to swear allegiance to the Technocracy; the Technocracy claim that unless the Traditions set their philosophies aside and work together as a whole, they will not have the strength the face down the vast Nephandi conspiracy against reality.
Boom, I just solved two thirds of the problems with the basic Mage: the Ascension setting in one fell swoop.
So, in my Monday evening group we’re starting a Technocracy-based Mage: the Ascension campaign, so I decided to get the main books. The main reference for the campaign is going to be the Guide to the Technocracy; I don’t know which edition of Mage our GM is going to be primarily referring to, but there was a copy of the 1st edition going cheap on eBay and I tend to find that that the earlier editions of games are often the purest expressions of their key ideas. Often 2nd editions and Revised editions graft on additional metaplot and mild rules tweaks in pursuit of balance but do so in a way which muddies the vision expressed by the original designer, and it’s my understanding that Mage in particular changed a lot between editions, with a lot of the “freewheeling magic which can do whatever the fuck you like combined with trippy-ass craziness in the Umbra” aspects of the game – as marvelously depicted on this image from the Storyteller’s Screen – toned down extensively as the line progressed and attempts were made to make the game more tonally consistent with the rest of the World of Darkness line. Since the Storyteller in question seems to like that trippy stuff – it’s been a major element of their occasional Werewolf: the Apocalypse campaign – I figured that taking a look at the original and (reputedly) weirdest iteration of the game would give me a better handle on what to expect.
It’s an interesting read.
Dan wrote an excellent post recently about how a major success of Vampire: the Masquerade was generating buy-in on the part of participants, and I think he was correct – both in the sense of getting buy-in for people to invest in being part of the particular gaming community and experience White Wolf fostered, and also in the sense of getting people pumped up in general about the idea of playing a game where you are a vampire. By the end of reading the core Vampire book, if you’re at all inclined to play a game where you are a vampire there’s good odds you’re now really hyped about playing a game in which you are a vampire, and in particular playing this specific game in which you’re a vampire, and if the metaplot catches your eye you’re probably also hyped to see where it goes (and if you’re not keen on the metaplot, then your Storyteller – if they have any chops at all – ought to be able to make sure there’s stuff in the particular chronicle you are interested in), and if you’re at all into sharing gaming war stories with people the Pretentious Capitalised Nomenclature is a nice aid for that.
The first edition rulebook for Mage more or less does the same thing, in that after reading it I am more interested in playing Mage than I was before I read it (and I was already reasonably excited, otherwise I wouldn’t have got the book). But I think it’s slightly confused about what it is generating buy-in for, which is a pretty major flaw when the point of generating buy-in (as Dan explains it) is to get everyone on the same page.
This book was originally published by ICE ostensibly as a supplement for the Rolemaster Standard System – perhaps the most complex iteration of Rolemaster due to its aspirations towards shifting from being a fantasy-based game to becoming a generic system (an experiment which arguably was reflected in the development of D20/D&D 3rd Edition). In retrospect this is a bit of a shame, because aside from having the Rolemaster trade dress applied to it it’s actually an almost completely generic product, with a tiny, miniscule smidgen of Rolemaster system stuff pitched in terms which could be easily translated to other systems.
What Nightmares of Mine actually boils down to is an expansive book-length essay by Ken Hite (with contributions – I suspect the Rolemaster system stuff – by John Curtis) on horror RPGs. Over the course of the book, Hite breaks down horror as a genre to see what makes it tick, considers how horror RPGs differ from those of other genres, and provides extensive advice on running both horror-oriented games and the occasional scary scenario in an otherwise less fright-focused campaign.