Author: royce.roeswood

Gideon the Ninth is Science Fantasy Awesome

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The first time I saw the cover of Gideon the Ninth by Tasmin Muir, I didn’t think it was for me. There’s a dark skeletal figure, surrounded by even more skeletons, and between that and the illuminated manuscript font I was getting serious goth vibes. I wasn’t sure what awaited me beyond that cover, but it was dark and scary and full of bones, and I said no thanks. 

Had I looked a little closer, I would have seen that the central figure was wearing aviator sunglasses. 

It wasn’t until I saw a comment on a Reddit thread about the strangest books people had ever read that my interest was piqued enough to exceed my reservations. The comment (which I wish I could find) said something about how the genre of the book kept subverting itself. A mix of fantasy and science fiction, and you think it’s going to be an academy drama, oh no actually its a murder mystery, um on second thought this might be a Hunger Games style bloodbath. 

I was intrigued, and decided to give the book a second look. And praise be to the Emperor Undying that I did. 

Was I right about the skeletons and goth vibes? Yes. But Gideon the Ninth also presents a world unlike any other I’d encountered before, unique in vision and voice. A world that blurs genre distinctions and is, of course, totally Science Fantasy Awesome. 

So what I’d like to do is look at the first chapter of Gideon the Ninth from the perspective of a first time reader and the ways in which the word choice creates this science fantasy who-knows-what-is-happening feeling. I won’t discuss anything that’s not mentioned in the first chapter, so that should count as spoiler-free, unless you’re an absolute spoiler hardass.

“In the myriadic year of our Lord—the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the kindly Prince of Death—”

The first sentence immediately sets up a regal, sanctimonious tone that might be the opening to a classic fantasy book, although “Prince of Death” might give us pause. 

“Gideon Nav packed her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines”

And here we have our first record-skip moment, a sensation we will be quite familiar with before this book, or even this chapter, is out. The fact this character has dirty magazines sets her immediately against her formal environment, as if she doesn’t belong. She is immediately a maverick, an outsider. Also that these are the only three items she packs tells us something about her plans and priorities.

Gideon continues to get ready. Our next clue comes at “church robes,” which reinforces the clerical opening, as does “cell.” Actually “cell” is doing two things — evoking both monk’s quarters and a prison cell, the combination being a fairly accurate description of Gideon’s situation. 

We learn that this place is dark for months at a time (spooky) and that you “tell the season by how hard the heating vents [are] creaking.” This is the first mention of a piece of technology (beyond magazines, I suppose), and this sentence does a lot of work to set up ideas that are clarified later. First, mentioning the seasons in conjunction with the heating system implies an essentiality and a ubiquity to this technology beyond mere comfort. Second, the fact that these heaters are creaking means that they are not being well-kept. Whatever advances have been made, the systems are decaying.

Gideon dresses herself in “polymer and synthetic weave,” which implies another available technology. This, with the heating vents, stands in contrast to “church robes” and “cell,” so by the time we get to “security cuff,” we’re not sure if it is meant to be a crude iron manacle or something with blinking lights. It’s not clarified, so we’re left to imagine. Gideon leaves the key “on her pillow, like a chocolate in a fancy hotel,” and we have our first hint of ironic humor which will become very familiar by book’s end. 

Gideon goes to visit her “mother’s nameless catacomb niche,” which gives us more spooky church vibes. (There’s more to be mined here but since we don’t know anything about Gideon’s mother yet we’ll have to come back.) That Gideon goes down five flights of stairs and then up twenty-two illustrates the verticality of this space. 

She waits for a “shuttle,” which presumably means a spacecraft, but given the ambiguity so far we can’t be entirely sure. The mention that the “atmosphere is pumped in” reinforces the idea from the heating vents that this place can only support life by technological intervention, which gives the environment a hostility in addition to the darkness which is continually emphasized. 

This brings us to the end of the first page. 

Gideon hangs out on the “landing field,” which we are fairly sure is meant for a spacecraft, but this field is in a cold and rocky cave, albeit surrounded with “generator lights” with “wire-meshed frames.” Again: high technology, sparsely available, in a harsh environment. This is re-emphasized with her snack from “little plastic bag of porridge.”

At this point, we might feel like we’re settling into a gritty space opera with religious motifs, and we might feel comfortable. We would be wrong. 

“…the faraway upward clatter of the skeletons going to pick mindlessly at the snow leeks…”

Um, what? Like, genuine skeletons? Maybe that’s just the word they use to describe their robots.

“…eyes a multitude of wavering red pinpricks.”

Right! Robot eyes, right? Red robot eyes. 

Nope. Spoiler: they are legit skeletons. Like, dead people bones brought back to life. And there are more to come. A lot more. This tips the needle very much toward fantasy with necromantic magic, and a specific gothic vibe that is already very clear. 

The bell rings for morning prayers, just as in a church, and this reinforces the sacred tone. “Castle Drearburh” makes us wonder if this is just straight-up fantasy? No, it can’t be, because of the spaceship that’s coming. Right?

We meet another character, Crux. Gideon’s swearing and casual language stands in contrast to Crux’s formal speech, and illustrates the differences between them. We don’t know enough yet to say if Crux is representative of the rest of this place or not, but if he is, the contrast serves to reinforce the sense that we already have that Gideon does not belong here. Gideon’s mention of her pornographic magazines once again comes in conflict with the sacred sensibilities of the Ninth. 

“More decrepit alive than some of the legitimately dead” gives us the sense that the dead linger on in this place, which makes sense, because we already know that there are living, working skeletons. 

“Gideon suspected that—even though he had not a whit of necromancy in him—the day he died, Crux would keep going anyway out of sheer malice.”

The word necromancy helps orient us specifically to a genre we suspected we might already be in. This phrase introduces the idea that some people have magic and some people don’t, a common fantasy trope, while also repeating the idea that here, the line between the living and the dead is not a clean one. 

There’s a bit of threatened swordplay, which always gets me excited in a book that also has spaceships. Crux threatens to turn parts of Gideon’s body into paper and cleaning implements, which introduces the idea of the physical body as a mere resource to be transformed and used for work, which will be explored later as our understanding of necromancy deepens.

Crux leaves and we have an encounter with Aiglamene, Gideon’s sword teacher. We don’t get many more genre clues in this encounter other than the continued mention of swords and that Aiglamene’s leg has been replaced by a bone adept, which in context we assume is a specific kind of necromancer.

At the end of this section, we return to the idea that the dead linger on with the mention that if Gideon were to die here, “that would only be the beginning.”

In the final section of the chapter we get more background and a more complete description of the planet—yes, it is called a planet. The Ninth House is inside the planet’s core, and there is a bubble installation prison high above the surface, “where the living conditions were probably a hell of a lot more clement.” Which implies that the technology exists to make the Ninth House more hospitable, and yet it is not, which means it must be kept harsh and cold … on purpose.

Then we get a lot of science fiction words. Gideon’s mother’s “hazard suit” was out of “battery power” and Gideon was held in a “bio-container.” This is made science fantasy awesome when nun-adepts are summoned to try to get an answer out of her ghost. This makes sense, because a theme that has been made very clear throughout this chapter is that death is not the end. Which gives more context to the earlier phrase in the catacomb niche, which mentions “her mother hadn’t been there since Gideon was little and would never go back to it now.” Which gets creepy when we realize that Gideon’s mother has been dead since the day Gideon was born. Spooky. 

At the very end of the chapter, we get some delightful hooks that I’ll let you discover on your own, because if you haven’t already read this fantastic book, please do yourself a favor and get your phalanges on a copy.

So, not only does the first chapter of Gideon the Ninth set up a smorgasbord of ideas that will be explored throughout the novel, but also, by alternating between fantasy and science fiction words and tropes and overlaying them with gothic imagery, creates a unique mash-up setting. The line between fantasy and science fiction is blurred, as is the line between the living and the dead. Gideon stands in stark contrast to her surroundings, having been literally dropped in from somewhere else, like a character from a different genre.

Verdict: Gideon the Ninth is totally Science Fantasy Awesome. 

Keyforge is Science Fantasy Awesome

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Anyone who has spent time with me in real life has inevitably heard me wax poetic about Keyforge, the unique deck game from Fantasy Flight Games designed by Richard Garfield of Magic: The Gathering and Netrunner fame. I could go on about the many reasons why I love this game, and I will at the slightest prompting (seriously, if you have any interest in collectible card games at all, and don’t like deckbuilding, check out Keyforge) but today I want to focus on a specific aspect of the game that is pertinent to my Science Fantasy Awesome series: the genre. 

One look at the original box art for the first Keyforge set and a few things become clear: this world is bright, fun, and there’s a lot going on. The design is great because it perfectly captures the world of the game, but also the gameplay itself, which is diverse, accessible, and wild. But something else is clear: this is 100% science fantasy. There’s a knight, there’s a martian, there’s a giant with a mechanical arm, and a host of other strange creatures. For anyone who enjoys that mash-up, peanut-butter-in-your-chocolate feel, this box art is an absolute invitation.

What does it mean to talk about the genre of a card game? For the most part, it’s the cart art that communicates the story of this fictional world, plus the lore in the rulebook. Yes, there’s more to be learned in the RPG sourcebook, short story anthology, and novel — and I may discuss those in the future — but just to keep our discussion focused, I want to stick to the card game for now. 

Since science fantasy is the blending of tropes from fantasy and science fiction, let’s look at Keyforge through this lens and see how this “mash-up” feeling is achieved on a variety of levels, from general lore down to individual cards. 

First I’ll talk about æmber as a general lore concept. Then we’ll break down each of the ten houses in the game, looking for how and where science fiction and fantasy tropes meet. 

Æmber

The first thing we need to talk about is æmber, the glowing golden substance that is found on the Crucible, the artificial patchwork world that is the setting for Keyforge. Not only is æmber central to life on the Crucible — powering fantastic technology, charging magic spells, causing useful or debilitating mutations, and serving as currency — it is also central to the card game, since it is the resource you need to collect to forge the eponymous keys and win. From a design standpoint, this convergence of lore and mechanics is brilliant. 

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is aember.jpg

But with our genre lens, we see that æmber is also the central meeting point for our science fiction and fantasy genre mashup. The first mention of æmber in the rulebook describes it as a “mysterious psychic substance.” I want to break down those two adjectives because they tell us so much from a genre perspective.

The idea that æmber is mysterious does so much work. It keeps the substance deliberately vague, and from this ambiguity, an infinity of possibilities to emerge. In a narrative work, this kind of vagueness might seem like a cop-out, but in a game, it gives coherence to a world that might otherwise seem disjointed. The flexibility of its vagueness is its strength. How do the witches of Untamed perform magic? Æmber. What are the cybernetic scientists of Logos studying? Æmber. How do the demons of Dis capture and eat emotions? Æmber. What powers the spacecraft of Mars? Æmber. 

Because Keyforge draws on a variety of genre tropes, any specific explanation of æmber would push the game world too far in one direction. A scientific explanation would deprive the fantasy factions of their wonder and a magical explanation would make the sci-fi factions feel ridiculous.

Which brings us to the second descriptive word. “Psychic” is a perfect word in science fantasy because different genres of fiction use different explanations for psychic powers. In a fantasy work, psychic powers are explained in terms of magic, an inherent ability that bends the rules of reality. But in science fiction, there is a long-standing trope of highly-evolved beings and creatures from other worlds having psychic powers: just look at the Betazeds in Star Trek or the Bene Gesserit in Dune for two examples. Technology can also be used as an explanation for psychic powers. So, æmber being described as psychic lets us stay in that ambiguous place between fantasy and sci-fi, which is useful, for the reasons already discussed.

This ambiguity also makes room for the designers to add more diversity to the world, as we have already seen with the three new houses introduced since the launch of the game.

(As a side note: even the way æmber is spelled, with the uncommon letter ash at the beginning, is ambiguous. Should the word be pronounced Amber? Ember? Eember? It’s unclear, and this has given rise to multiple pronunciations across the fanbase, just as one might expect to encounter different dialects while journeying across the Crucible.)

So, to reiterate: the central substance that drives not only the fictional world of Keyforge, but also the gameplay, is described in a deliberately ambiguous yet evocative way to bring cohesion to a mash-up world, to allow both fantasy and science fiction tropes to exist side-by-side, and make space for further exploration and discovery into the future.

The Houses

There are currently ten factions, called houses, in the card game of Keyforge (there are more in the RPG sourcebook, we’ll be skipping those for today). Each house has its own look and feel, so each can be analyzed individually. 

Since we’re looking at Keyforge through a science fantasy genre lens, it might be informative to imagine a spectrum with science fiction on one side to fantasy on the other, and try to place each house somewhere on that spectrum. So let’s go through each house, one by one, and see what we learn.

Brobnar

Brobnar is the house of giants and goblins, both staple races of fantasy. But these giants have cyborg limbs, powered by æmber, with lots of vents and gears and pistons that give a unique steampunk-y vibe. 

With both of these elements appearing on almost every Brobnar card, this house is clearly Science Fantasy Awesome, and right in the middle of our spectrum. 

Dis

Dis is one of the most visually interesting factions of any game anywhere, and I’m not sure how to begin describing them. They’re purple, pink, and black, and there’s lots of tendrils, spikes, masks, and insect features. On the cards and in the lore, these creatures are called “demons” and “imps,” and with those words in hand, the viewer says, “Oh, yes, of course. Demons it is.” But these are certainly not the red-skinned, horned demons of other fantasy works. 

The takeaway is, I think, that they are weird and unknowable, which the design goes at great lengths to show. And since they’re called demons, one’s initial instinct might be to place them fully on the fantasy but of the spectrum. But, as in so many works of science fantasy, explanation is everything. 

In the rulebook lore, we read about how these creatures steal and eat emotions from the other beings of the Crucible. Okay, yes, that seems like something that demons might do. But then they are described as having enhancements that are “part sorcery and part high technology.” Science Fantasy Awesome indeed. 

Here is a list of science fiction words that are used to describe Dis in the rulebook lore: technological, cybernetic, robotic, machines. This is not something that is immediately clear, at least not to me, looking at the cards. 

So there’s an interesting effect achieved. There are these strange creatures, described as demons, so the player goes along with this, and has a fantasy mindset. But then as the player explores deeper in the lore, they learn that these creatures are actually robots, which casts the previous understanding in a science-fiction-y light. Had the creatures been described as robots from the get-go, the same effect would not be achieved. 

So I’m going to place Dis on the fantasy side, but towards the middle, of our spectrum.  

Logos

Logos is the house of robots, scientists, A.I., and cyborgs so advanced that they have forgotten their original forms.

I looked really hard for a whiff of fantasy in Logos, but came up short. I think the closest we get is that many of the inventions border on the “fantastical,” and we sometimes get “mad scientist” vibes.

With all this science going on, I have to place Logos firmly on the science fiction end of the spectrum.

Mars

Here we have another solidly sci-fi faction, Mars. Straight-up little green men, saucer ships, and hypnotic beams. 

To be fair, this leans more on the softer-side of science fiction, which some would call science fantasy all on its own. But if we’re looking for magic or wizards or anything like that, it is not to be found on Mars. So I’ll place them a little towards the middle, but still on the science fiction end. 

Sanctum

In a game that features demons, one should also expect angels. And Sanctum delivers in spades.

Almost every Sanctum card is a variation on this theme: spirits and angels in armor with glowing weapons and auras. Everything about this is solid fantasy. They even live in flying cities in the clouds. Barely a scrap of science fiction anywhere. In the lore, their armor is described as “technological,” but also that is powered by “spiritual energy.”

I would have to say, 100% fantasy. But since we’re on the lookout, I do have to point out two Sanctum cards that, bizarrely, feature motorcycles:

Despite these sweet rides, I have to place Sanctum all the way on the fantasy end of our spectrum. 

Saurian Republic

I don’t think I’ve seen anything like the design of the Saurian Republic anywhere else. The closest that comes to mind is Dinotopia. These are anthropomorphic dinosaurs in a Greco-Roman aesthetic with togas and columns. 

Dinosaurs are an interesting case for our science fantasy spectrum because, like “psychic”, it all comes down to the explanation why there are dinosaurs in a work. More often than not, however, there is a science fiction explanation. In Jurrassic Park, the dinosaurs are cloned. Sometimes time travel is invoked. In the case of the Saurians, the lore says they were transported to the Crucible from earth millions of years ago, and have evolved into the society that we see depicted. Additionally, the lore also makes clear that what look like “magic” shields and spears to us are actually highly advanced technology.

So where does that leave us? The Greco-Roman vibes evoke historical fantasy or alternative timelines, but then there’s advanced technology that looks like magic. An evolved race of dinosaurs would be sci-fi, but the way in which they are depicted leans us toward the softer side. So, we start to realize that our spectrum between fantasy and science fiction is a little arbitrary, and depends on how you categorize things like historical fiction. So I’ll put them in the middle, but leaning toward the science fiction side. 

Star Alliance

Some players just call this the Star Trek house, because the homage is so transparent. A group of deliberately diverse humans and aliens that work together with a military hierarchy has an obvious antecedent. But the aesthetic of bubble helmets and ray guns harkens back to an earlier, more Flash Gordon, era of science fiction. 

But we are looking for science fantasy! In the lore, Star Alliance is an accepting faction, letting all kinds join, which creates some interesting mash-ups.

Spirits, elves, and merfolk in spacesuits! That’s pretty Science Fantasy Awesome. However, in the context of a group from space that is already made up of diverse extraterrestrials, it’s easy to see these fantasy creatures as just additional alien species in a wild galaxy. But, as we said before, science fantasy is all about explanations and aesthetics. So we’ll put them part-way on the science fiction side.

Shadows

Shadows, like Brobnar, features a staple fantasy race reinterpreted in a specific sci-fi subgenre. Here we see elves (small trickster-type elves, as opposed to Tolkienesque high elves) with a cyberpunk vibe. The urban settings, neon colors, and the sense that these elves are “sticking it to the man,” like hackers stealing from oppressive corporations, all feed into the cyberpunk aesthetic.

Also of interest are the faeries, tiny robotic beings that assist in thievery and mischief:

But, the designers show us that there is still more to see. In the latest set (as of the writing of the article), Dark Tidings, we see a more pirate-y side to shadows, while still retaining some of that cyberpunk aesthetic. 

With elves and pirates on one side, and cyberpunk and robot faeires on the other, Shadows is firmly in the middle of our science fantasy spectrum. 

Unfathomable

Unfathomable are the most recent faction to be introduced to the card game of Keyforge, a cult of aquatic beings that serve the unknowable ancient deities of the deep ocean. They have distinct Lovecraftian vibes, and that’s not surprising, given Fantasy Flight’s long line of Arkham Files games.  

So how would we categorize this faction? The idea of merpeople is certainly fantastical, and they appear to have magic powers. If we stopped there, that would place them firmly in the fantasy camp. But it’s the ancient Lovecraftian deities that give me pause. In Lovecraft’s work, the ancient ones are beings from beyond the stars, but so strange and unknowable they might as well be fantasy gods. So where would we put that on our science fantasy spectrum? 

Again, this is where we come up against the limitations and arbitrariness of our categories. Since Lovecraft is cosmic horror, it doesn’t fit neatly into our spectrum. But Unfathomable might be headed in their own direction that we’re just not aware of at this point. So, I’ll put them on the fantasy side, but heading towards the middle. 

Untamed

Untamed is the house of the wilds, full of fantastical creatures. But it is also home to the witches, humans who use æmber for magical purposes. 

(Side note: I love that in Keyforge the keyword ‘witch’ applies to both female- and male-presenting characters)

If that was it, Untamed would be a solidly fantasy house. But on the Crucible, there is always more to discover. As in Shadows, we find that these magical wilds are also populated with robotic faeires. 

As a writer and in my own work, I love when fantasy words get applied to sci-fi concepts, and vice versa, which we see a lot of in Keyforge. So I love this idea of these little sprite-like beings living in the woods called faeries actually being tiny robots. 

And since we’re on the lookout for the places where sci-fi and fantasy meet, I have to call out a few cards that depict Untamed as technology scavengers. 

So, the main character of the house is witches and fantasy animals. But, because of the fairies and the technology scavenging, I would have to put Untamed on the fantasy side but closer to the center of our spectrum. 

Our Completed Spectrum

Let’s look at our complete, albeit somewhat arbitrary spectrum:

We see that there is a fairly even spread. Some houses are on the science fiction side, some on the fantasy side, and some in the middle. So what does this mean?

Since every Keyforge deck consists of three houses, there is always going to be a mash-up of genres within an individual deck. Because of the way the houses are distributed through the sets, the closest you can get to an all-science fiction deck, in our analysis, would be a Logos-Saurian-Star Alliance deck, which is still going to feel a little fantasy. On the other side, the closest you can get to an all-fantasy desk is Sanctum-Unfathomable-Untamed.

Where am I going with all this? The point is, since each game of Keyforge has two decks going against each other, every game of Keyforge is going to have a unique science fantasy mashup. The chances of single game of Keyforge featuring only fantasy or only science fiction cards is so small as to be negligible. And, since every deck itself is unique, the way that the science fiction and fantasy elements are going to converge in each game is also unique, leading to a continuous and infinite journey through new science fantasy mash-ups.

But enough about what I think. Do you agree with where I’ve placed these houses on the spectrum? Does the science fantasy mash-up genre also part of the appeal of Keyforge for you? And if you haven’t tried Keyforge, why not? Leave comments below!

Science Fantasy: What it is, and why it’s important.

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(Image credit: “Thrust” by Wasso Kozlina IV)

“Science Fantasy” is a term that has had a number of different meanings in the past. The phrase used to be used in a somewhat derogatory way, in order to contrast “lighter” or more “fantastical” works with the rigorous, and implicitly more preferable, works of “hard” science fiction. 

But the term is being used now, more and more, to describe media that combines tropes from both the fantasy and science fiction genres. It is still seen as a lesser genre, and the Encyclopedia of Science Fiction even calls it a “bastard genre.” But I think science fantasy is not only interesting and exciting, I think it’s important.

First off, science fantasy is a genre that exists only because of the categorization between these two main poles of speculative fiction. In the early days of science fiction the genres were not so separate, and it was only in later decades the boundaries became more well-drawn. But like many such boundaries, once set, the temptation to cross them becomes irresistible. Any such boundary is almost an invitation for artists and creatives to come and break it. 

A work that contains tropes from two or more once-distinct genres is difficult to categorize, and by its very existence throws the whole program of categorization into question. It exists in an ambiguous, liminal, in-between space. It is a shade of grey amongst the black-and-white, and as such, reflects the same ambiguous “greying” that we see in the social, political, and cultural spheres in our world. 

Science fantasy is an explicitly post-modern genre, one that acknowledges that the audience is aware of and understands genre distinctions, before gleefully and self-consciously blurring them. This initial crossing of genres then opens the door for yet more genres to flood in, which is why mystery, horror, and historical genre tropes often appear in science fantasy. Seeing these genres side-by-side invites the audience to reconsider what is possible, to examine and integrate rival frameworks, and to explore the unknown and unfamiliar and therefore confront the Other and the Shadow.

Against forces that seek to categorize and flatten individuals into easily graspable demographics, science fantasy makes space for and celebrates the full complexity of humanity, and is therefore political. Why must there be binaries? Why must there be borders? If we are grouping people, why? And who benefits from those distinctions?

Moreso than other genre-mashups, because of fantasy’s wistful gaze toward an idyllic imagined past and science fiction’s analytic projections into an array of possible futures, bringing these two perspectives together calls up the full temporal range of human experience and unites it in a present that can be, at its best, a transcendent moment. 

Also, it’s just cool, right? A wizard with a ray gun? A cyborg dragon? That’s just Awesome. 

That’s Science Fantasy Awesome. 

In this blog, I’m going to explore examples of science fantasy media and examine them with this lens: What makes these works ambiguous? Where are the places where fantasy and science fiction meet? And what makes them awesome?

Seven Sins of Keyforge

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Warning: the article contains spoilers for set 4 of Keyforge, Mass Mutation.

It’s been an exciting week for Keyforge with the announcement of set 4, Mass Mutation. I am sure I am not alone in my excitement for the new Enhance keyword and the two-card gigantic creatures. But at the very end of the announcement article, there was also this enticing little gem:

“If you thought the Four Horsemen were impressive, wait until you see the Seven Sins!”

This raises a lot more questions than it answers, and leaves a lot of room for speculation. If, like the Four Horsemen, there were a group of seven cards that always appear together in the same house (presumably Dis), that does not leave a lot of variation for the remaining five cards in that house. (Although we have seen this already, as Plague Rats can show up in Shadows with up to seven copies in a deck.)

But there is another possibility: since there are seven houses in Mass Mutation (Dis, Logos, Sanctum, Saurian Republic, Star Alliance, Shadows, Untamed), it could be that each house has one corresponding sin, similar to leaders in Worlds Collide or shards in Age of Ascension. So, assuming that designers are following the traditional list of Seven Deadly Sins (Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Pride), which house corresponds to which sin?

Let’s see if we can work it out using what we know about the houses, and other cards in the game, particularly the seven Bane variants in Dis. (While the Bane cards reference traits, and not houses, I think it is fairly obvious which Bane corresponds to which house.)

Let’s start with the obvious ones:

Greed: Shadows

It’s no question that the house of thieves and stealing should correspond to the sin of desire for money and things. Thieves’ Bane depicts a pile of gold, and the Shadows shard is the Shard of Greed. Done and done.

Pride: Saurian Republic

Brad Andres has spoken at length on various podcasts that one of the core design ideas for the Saurian Republic was the idea of hubris, or excessive pride, so it is obvious that these two should go together. Dinosaur’s Bane depicts an elegant mirror, the symbol of vanity and pride.

Okay, now we have to take some logical leaps:

Sloth – Dis

So, there isn’t really a lazy house (how could there be, in a fast-paced action game like Keyforge?) But if we look at the card Demon’s Bane, the item which “lures” demons into a trap is a chess-like board game. We see another game depicted on the Dis action A Fair Game. It’s not clear to me what these games mean to the demons of Dis, but if they are a distraction from their normal demon activities, perhaps sloth is the proper correspondence. 

Of course, Sloth could also correspond to Untamed, the only house to feature an actual sloth.

Gluttony – Untamed

Again, I return to the Bane cards. The card Beast’s Bane depicts a juicy piece of meat on the bone, large enough to satisfy any glutton. While there are beasts in every house except Sanctum, the house with the most beasts by far is Untamed. So the connection goes Untamed to beasts, beasts to juicy meat (via the Beast’s Bane card), juicy meat to gluttony.

Wrath – Sanctum

If Brobnar or Mars were in Mass Mutation, either of those houses would be my pick for wrath over Sanctum. And in the absence of the Saurians, I would probably put Sanctum with pride, since “few are judged worthy to enter” their cities. But, with the story hint that Sanctum are angry about the discovery and use of the dark aember (even though they found it first) and the newly revealed card Bull-wark with the Assault trait, which implies aggression, I feel comfortable putting Sanctum with wrath.

So, the leftovers:

Envy – Logos

Now we have to start making things up. Perhaps the scientists of Logos are envious of all the other houses on the Crucible. They are not as big as the Brobnar, as shiny as the Sanctum, or as deadly as the Dis. This is why they pour all their effort into learning, desperate to be the smartest so that maybe, one day, someone will pay attention to them. The flavor text on the Logos shard, Shard of Knowledge, is “Forged from desire,” that is, the desire… to be like others? Maybe?

Lust – Star Alliance

You can see it in their eyes. Every member of the Star Alliance, having traveled through space for so long, is absolutely dripping with lust, desperate for the touch of… yeah, I got nothing. But seven houses with seven sins means something gets left over.

It’s hard to think of any card in the game, much less an entire house, that one could associate with the idea of lust. Even Succubus, a card named after a spirit of seduction, is about as sexy as a porcupine. In my mind, it is a positive aspect of Keyforge that the art is designed to be as welcoming to as many kinds of players as possible, and this includes avoiding the sexy depiction of female bodies common in other game art. But it makes me curious, assuming the designers are following the traditional list of the seven deadly sins, how they will include lust in a game that is for the most part bright, colorful, friendly, and sexless.

So, what do you think? Do you have a different way you would arrange the seven sins with the seven houses? Or do you have a different theory altogether for what the Seven Sins will be? Comment below or wherever you found this article.

Sealed Cube: An Alternative Keyforge Cube Format

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When hearing about draft formats for Keyforge using a cube, I hear the following two common complaints:

  1. It takes too long to draft.
  2. It doesn’t “feel” like Keyforge.

I am proposing a different way to use a Keyforge cube that addresses these two complaints. I call it Sealed Cube. It should be compatible with any existing Keyforge cube. The idea is to simulate the feeling of Sealed format Keyforge without having to open fresh decks every time you play.

Here’s what you need:

How to Play

  • A Keyforge Cube (or just a big pile of decks)
  • A different set of opaque card sleeves for each player
  • A way to determine house combinations (see below)

To start, sort all the cards in the cube into piles by house. If there are any paired cards in your cube, like Timetraveller, Four Horsemen, Ortannu, Igon, Xenos/Toad, or Brews, put just one card from the pairing into the house pile and set the rest aside. For Blasters, put the Blaster in the pile and the matching officer aside. Shuffle each pile separately.

For each player, determine which houses they are going to play. If you have a complete set of house chain trackers, you could use those. Or just use one card from each house. Shuffle the seven or nine house cards together and then deal three to a player. That is the house combination they will be playing for this game. Collect the house cards, shuffle, and deal again for the next player.

For each house a player was given, deal that player twelve cards from the matching house pile. If a player was dealt a paired card, randomly replace cards from that house with the matching paired cards that were set aside earlier. Sleeve each deck of 36 cards, and you are good to go! A randomly generated Sealed Keyforge deck.

Benefits and Drawbacks

Benefits of this method:

  • Faster than draft
  • Feels like Keyforge (no deck construction)
  • Cheaper than regular Sealed
  • Fun use for bulk decks

Here are some potential drawbacks of Cube Sealed vs. regular Sealed:

  1. The algorithm. There is a lot about the algorithm that we don’t know, and it is possible with this method, depending on the composition of your cube, to generate decks that the algorithm did not intend. For example, if there is a card that is limited to one per deck but there is more than one copy in your cube, or if the algorithm makes sure there is a minimum number of creatures in a deck, these factors are not accounted for in Cube Sealed.
  2. Cross-set mixes. If you have cards from more than one set in your cube, that could create decks that are not possible with the algorithm. 
  3. Ambassadors and Plants. I’m not sure of a good way to include cards that are dependant on the other houses in your deck. 
  4. Not an actual deck. If you get a deck you like, you can’t play that deck at official events.

What do you think? Even if the decks are slightly wonky, it would still make for a fun night of Keyforge. If you try out this method, let me know your thoughts.

Response to Bekkeerr’s Question

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There was a recent question on the r/theatre subreddit from u/Bekkeerrr. I’ve answered it here since Reddit’s size requirements won’t allow me to post this as a single comment. I’ve copied the original question here for reference

The Question

What theatre-based ‘parts” do you ‘play’ during computerized roll-playing-games?

In 1965 Eric Bentley wrote “A impersonates B while C looks on”. I’m currently writing my bachelor project, and I’m looking into exactly that. Because using theatre-based audience theory, how can you look into computer-based role playing games? In gaming the player can be both A, B and C – also at the same time. But I was wondering if there are any other ‘parts’ that you can ‘play’ when gaming. Like watcher or gamemaster or any kind of way to personalize your gaming experience. What kind of character do you play while playing RPG games? And most importantly: how do they relate to the theatre?

I hope this makes sense and that somebody will help me with a little inspiration.

Thank you!

My Response

“A impersonates B while C looks on”

Bentley is making a distinction here between A the performer, B the character (or role), and C the audience. I understand the point Bentley is trying to make by focusing on the essential qualities of the theatrical event, but I think his description is reductive, and exploring the other positions in the creation of a theatre work may help illuminate OP’s question. (I am going to use the word “position” when discussing the creation of theatre and games so to differentiate these with the “roles” of the players in the narrative.)

We have the playwright, the author of the narrative being told. We have the designers, who create the sets, costumes, sounds, lighting, props — everything that the audience experiences that is not the performers. We have the director who leads the team of artists in a shared vision. We have the stage manager, board operators, and stage hands who make sure the technical elements operate as designed. Then there are the producers, marketers, and other theatre staff who keep the organization running and make sure there is an audience to see the event — because, as Bentley points out: no audience, no theatre. Or, as David Mamet puts it, “The audience is the final collaborator.”

Are all of these positions present in the creation of every theatrical work? No. Many of these positions are dependant on the scale and budget of the production, and I think that might be part of the point Bentley is trying to make. Are sets, costumes, etc. necessary for a theatrical event? No. According to Bentley, all that is needed is an actor impersonating a character in front of an audience, or, as I would put it, playing a role.

So, if we are drawing parallels between a theatrical event and a computer role-playing game, how do these positions map across the two contexts? The position of A, the performer, would be the player. (It is interesting to note that the word “player” can be used to describe both a performer in a theatrical event and one who plays a game, which goes to show how linked these concepts are, at least in English). B, the character, would be the role the player takes on in the game. 

Who is C, the audience? The OP suggests this would also have to be the same person as A, the performer/player. That is true, if we think about who “consumer” of the work. But we must acknowledge the rise of streaming culture in our discussion of “the audience” in games. Even though video games might be thought of as solitary activities, when we consider the long history of theatre and sports, the emergence of “watching someone else play a video game” should come as no surprise. Why would someone choose to watch someone else play a game rather than play a game themselves? Look at sports: the players are playing the game at a level that may not be available to the average person in the audience, and the thrill is seeing the game played at its peak. So to with video games, especially competitive games. Even in single-player games, there may be enjoyment in watching the player perform at a high level of skill or playing the game in an unusual way. Or, it may be simply a question of access: the game is not available to the observer, who would still like to experience the game. But also remember the proverbial “younger sibling” who sits next to the older game-playing sibling and watches the action. The position of observer in games is not a new phenomenon.

We’ll come back to this idea of player-as-audience, but I want to continue mapping the other positions I proposed, and what it means when each of these positions overlaps with the position of the player. Who is the playwright in a computer role-playing game? Put another way, who is responsible for the narrative? If the game is a linear, controlled experience, then the game designers are the playwright. But, the more freedom and flexibility the player is given, the more the player controls the narrative and could be considered a “co-writer”. In an open world game, there is often a main story line that the player progresses through, but also a number of side-quests. The player, depending on how much they follow or ignore the main and side quests, will end up shaping the story. If the game is played through to completion, the main arc will always be present, but the order of events may change from player to player, and there may be sequences of events that occur in one player’s game that do not occur in another. In a sandbox or simulation game, where there is no defined goal or objective, the player is free to explore and create narratives on their own, within the confines and using the tools created by the game designers. Each player’s narrative may be vastly different depending on how they play the game. So the player may enter into and share the role of playwright depending on the flexibility granted by the game.

What would it mean to be a costume or set designer, or a director in a game? Many games provide customization options for the appearance of the characters and the environment, and for some games, like The Sims, this customization is a main part of the game. Beyond this, the player may create a mod for a game, in which case they are stepping into the position of game designer. Many games thrive on an active and diverse mod community.

A sidebar here on the merging of player and game designer: there is a game called Nomic, which was proposed by political scientist Peter Suber in the 1980’s to make a point about constitutional democracy. The rules of the game provide a structure for changing the rules of the game by voting, and indeed the sole focus of the game is to change the rules of the game. There were and are a number of Nomic communities on the internet that played and continue to play Nomic, over message boards, email lists, and blogs. As you might imagine, each instance of the game evolved and changed over time into totally different games. There is a way to play Nomic in and of itself, because the starting ruleset provides a method of victory where if a player can prove that there is a paradox in the rules or gamestate, that player wins the game (assuming the players have not repealed the rule that describes this victory condition). Therefore players may be attempting to introduce new rules that seem innocuous, but actually create paradoxical situations, and the game becomes a battle of wits as players attempt to outsmart one another. But there is another way to play Nomic where the players use the structure provided to create, piece by piece, a new game, but a game that is growing and transforming while it is being played. In my experience, most Nomic communities contained a blend of playstyles, with players creating pieces of a complex game while simultaneously trying to take advantage of loopholes in the current gamestate to progress toward victory (whatever that may currently be). But something I learned while playing Nomic is that the amount and kind of fun experienced is somewhat dependent on the skill of the players as game designers. It is one thing to play a polished, tested game from an experienced designer, and another thing to play a half-complete game designed by a group of amateurs who are simultaneously trying to win at said game. There are other kinds of fun to be had at Nomic, for sure. But the takeaway is, as a game designer, to be mindful of what we are asking the players to do, what positions we are asking them to take, and how to support them in those positions to achieve the kind of experience we would like them to have.

What other positions can a player take in a game? The OP mentions the game-master. In most tabletop role-playing games, each player takes on the role of a single character while one player, the game-master or dungeon master, takes on the role of everything else in the world: all of the other characters the players encounter, the environment, and God, creating situations for the players to encounter (therefore overlapping with the position of playwright). The game master is also the judge: if there are any disagreements about the rules, the game-master decides. In a computer role-playing game, the program itself is the game-master: all of the situations, choices, and consequences the player has are loaded written into the program. While there is potential for the creation of novel situations through procedural generation, there will always be limitations to what the players can do. One advantage of tabletop role-playing games over their computer counterparts is that the “computer” that the “game program” runs on is a human brain, the brain of the game-master. Therefore the players have much greater freedom of choice in action in a tabletop game because any player choice can be interpreted by the game-master in a flexible, nimble way that computers cannot (yet) achieve.

What would it mean for a player to take on the role of game-master in a computer role-playing game? Wouldn’t that be designing the game, rather than playing it?

Returning to the idea of player-as-audience, I’m going to turn the question backwards and examine the position of the audience in theatre. To what extent is the audience a participant in the theatrical event? There are many levels of possibility.

Often, I think, the audience of a theatrical event is considered to be a group of passive observers. In my experience, I can tell you that is not the case, as can anyone who has witnessed the difference between a rehearsal (where no audience is present) and a performance. There is something that happens when the performer is observed that brings a sharpness and clarity to the performance. And the performers are receiving feedback from the audience that causes them to, consciously or unconsciously, make changes to their performance. For example, from my experience of performing comedy, when the audience finds something particularly hilarious, I get a feeling like, “Oh, you liked that? Wait ‘til you see this!” that pushes me into the next joke, and I’m able to ride the waves from laugh to laugh. Even when the feedback is not as explicit as laughter, I can tell you that performers pick up on shifts of energy in the room and are constantly adjusting their choices based on what is happening. It is part of the magic of live theatre.

Beyond this, there are types of performance in which the audience is explicitly involved. If the performance uses direct address, where the characters speak directly to the audience, the audience may become “cast” in particular roles: a forum to be persuaded, an angry mob to be quelled, an army of soldiers to be encouraged. In melodrama, the audience may be given specific cues and controlled ways to respond. In improvisation, the audience is providing suggestions to inspire the performers and some members of the audience may even join the performers on stage. In immersive theatre, the audience may be free to explore or interact with the work as they see fit. And in interactive theatre, the audience is a direct participant and may have a significant impact on the theatrical event — and this starts to blur the line between theatre and game. So there is a spectrum of audience involvement depending on the type of event. As we have discussed, there is a similar spectrum of involvement in games depending on the type of game and the intentions of the game designers, from a highly narrative game that plays more like a film with a few player choices thrown in, to a sandbox game where the player has a great degree of freedom of action.

So, what do we mean by a “role-playing” game? In all games, the player is in the position of “player” but that may or may not involve playing a role. In abstract games like chess or cards, there is no narrative fiction around the game. The player is simply playing a game. In a thematic game like Pandemic, the player has a role, that of a member of the CDC working together with the other players to stop the outbreak of a global pandemic. But this fiction serves as an engagement device with the game, because without this narrative, the players would be simply moving pawns around to remove cubes from a board. The narrative gives context to the player’s actions, gives weight to the players goals, and helps explain why players can’t take certain actions. While I might feel like the scientist portrayed on my character card, there is no reason in the game for me to act like that character — although, there is nothing stopping me from doing that either, if I choose.

In a tabletop role-playing game, taking on the role of the character is one of the main activities, and, I think, one of the main draws of this type of game. Through the character, the player becomes a participant in a larger narrative, whether the audience for that narrative is only the players themselves or a community of streamers. Characters are not necessary for the creation of a narrative. In storytelling games like Once Upon A Time or Microscope, the players are collaborating to create a narrative, but they can (within the confines of the rules) change the narrative in any way they see fit. 

In a computer role-playing game, the player’s flexibility of choice might be more limited, depending on the design of the game. So the question becomes, which parts of the narrative are the game designers giving the players control over? Or, to relate to a previous point, to what extent are the players co-writers or co-playwrights? Do players have control over a single character or multiple characters? Over the environment itself? And how free are they to act within the confines given?

I feel I’ve covered a lot of ground here. Hopefully something here is useful and inspiring. I would also recommend Homo Ludens: The Play Element of Culture by Johan Huizinga as a useful examination of the similarities of theatre, games, sports, and other elements of culture (or, as Huizinga would argue, ALL other elements of culture). u/Bekkeerrr: I’m also available for additional questions, feel free to respond on Reddit as I am more likely to see it there.

Designer Diary: Placeholder Game Art

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I am not an artist. A professional artist will definitely have to be brought in to do the art for “Rosebud”, the project name for my game about sledding dinosaurs. But the prototype needs some kind of art, something to hint at what the finished product might look like. Little glass tokens in different colors will only hold a potential player’s interest for so long.

So I drew some dinosaurs. That’s half the reason why the game features dinosaurs at all, because I like to draw them. (The other half of the reason is dinosaurs are awesome.) I’ve been drawing these cartoon dinosaurs to amuse myself for years, and when I was talking about creating a prototype for this game, my wife suggested that I use these for art, since she finds them so cute. I do too, and hopefully you will as well.

What do you think? Do you have a favorite?