Yes, this is a post about living dungeons…
among other things, so please, bear with me.
First of all, I’m working on my third entry on
the Green Book – I finally
came up with a workable (and hopeful interesting) concept for the Alala.
I’m also preparing a small post about my
campaign’s progress. No, I’m not writing an Actual Play. They’re boring (to read
and to write). What I’m thinking to address here are some rules changes that
originated from my group unanimous opinion on a lot of little things (like the
ever infamous raise dead).
But let’s go back to this post’s title. I
finished reading Reaper’s Gale (the 7th
Malazan Book of the Fallen) last weekend and found it a blast: the massive
plot, though convoluted like everything else wrote by Erikson, was nonetheless
engaging and it managed to transmit the idea that things are finally shaping up
to a conclusion. A very different conclusion, given the series’ antagonist –
the Crippled God – and the way the cosmology and its various characters
interact with him.
I still think that Erikson’s skill as a writer is
overrated – other authors manage to be both more mythical (like Tolkien) and
more dramatic (like Martin). Erikson’s scores of characters all come from two or
three basic molds – from angsty and
brooding to hilariously overenthusiastic, passing through some archetypical
types (like the soldiers, mariners and sappers – ironically, my favorite
characters). It’s interesting to note that Erikson seems to associate high
intelligence with a heavy dose of cheerfulness and misdirection (as seen in
characters like Kruppe, Iskaral Pust and Tehol). However, there’s one place
where Erikson totally trumps any other writer: sheer scale. The entire Malazan
cosmology is a herculean exercise in worldbuilding, a masterpiece of fictional
construction that every Gamemaster should give a try. Besides, there are a lot
of good ideas and concepts here. I’ll address just one of them (and from an
incomplete perspective, as I have not read the last books). I should warn you
that spoilers are in order.
One recurrent idea of late (probably caused by
the OSR) is the concept of living dungeons or mythical underworlds as serious
setting elements (not just some gonzo background). Take, for example, the 13th Age – a recreation of D&D (mostly 4E mixed with narrative mechanics). In
this yet-to-be-released game, living dungeons are real and usually result from
reality wracking experiments of the Archmage (the world’s most powerful
arcanists), planar interferences and other eldritch phenomena.
Traditionally, by using living dungeons, you’re
banning realism – at least in the mind of most players. Living dungeons are
sentient entities, an entire place that wants you dead and fights against you –
they’re the ultimate excuses for those wacky rules of the original D&D of
’74, like doors locking up behind you and all monsters being able to see in the
dark. After wall, why in the Nine Hells would dungeons behave like that?
That’s were Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen
comes up with an amazing concept: the Azath.
We don’t know exactly what are the Azath (at
least the 7th book doesn’t say it), however we’ve plenty of
hypotheses. Azath are strange buildings, towers, dungeons or houses that grow
up spontaneously in certain locations. They appear to be made of some sort of
stone or wood-like material, but are practically impregnable and impervious to
damage (in the novels only one Azath die, but it takes centuries). Azath show
up where massive manifestations of power occur. Their most common role is to
spawn around a powerful entity (like a demon prince, an archangel or a potent
archwizard) and trap it for eternity.
The Azath seems to be the ultimate aspect of
Balance (or Neutrality) – strange entities whose role is to trap and contain
creatures who could tip the frail equilibrium of forces in the world. The Azath
are also living things, which their own (unfathomable) agendas and even chosen
servants. Cults develop around some Azath, with followers trying to commune
with a particular living dungeon’s intent and desires. These cultists are
usually True Neutral in Alignment (fanatically Neutral would be a better
description). In the novels this is represented by the Nameless One, the
mysterious cabal that serves “the will of the Azath”.
Each Azath is sort of unique, developing its
own local legends and histories. An example: the Azath on the Malaz Island is
called the Deadhouse and has an entire city around it. It is hinted in the
novels that those that managed to gain access to the Deadhouse (either by trickery,
force or some pact) gain strange abilities – like prolonged life. Some
creatures appear to be chosen by the Azath to act as their keepers or wardens -
it is unclear if these individuals must remain within their Azath or can go out
on missions. In other novels it’s speculated that the path to Ascendancy
(godhood) may be found within the depths of an Azath – this is probably the
most awesome and simple excuse for a dungeon crawl (coincidentally, it also
reminds me of the Starstone and the Ascendant Court built around it in the Pathfinder
campaign setting of Golarion).
The Azath also are used as a sort of “safe haven”
for powerful (or hunted) individuals that desire a safe (if dark) place to flee
from gods, demon lords, mighty dragons and such. After all, if any entity of
power comes within an Azath, it’s instantly trapped. And in the novels this
usually means that the creature is grappled by powerful stone-like roots and
buried alive, but the Gamemaster could concoct many other types of prison (like
an ever changing labyrinth, being petrified alive, diminished in size etc.).
What Erikson did was to create an original and
engaging mythology around the concept of living dungeons. One that’s easy to
steal and employ in most campaign settings. It’s a much better excuse for a
megadungeon than the usual “mad wizard’s playground” used by Gygax. The Azath
can also provide a unique and bizarre patron for a group of players – imagine
being servants of a living dungeon, tasked with hunting down (or attracting)
powerful creatures to those eternal prisons.
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