While we’re talking about the subject of constructing religions, I’d like to bring up the concept of the Creed. The creed is nothing more than a simple statement of the religion’s beliefs, meant to be recited. If you cannot write a creed for your monotheistic religion, it probably needs work on internal consistency. Creed examples:
This scroll is for posting monotheistic religions to be used in games.
Graves of a small, little known folk, exotic as dangerous.
The simple graves of a folk long gone, these are still favoured by graverobbers.
Of all the published roleplaying games, we have a huge number of fantasy games, a good number of sci-fi games, a smattering of modern and modern variation games, but very few of anything else. The Western is an Epic Genre in the bookstore. There are shelves and shelves of them, nearly as many as the science fiction section (minus Star Trek and Star Wars books). You would think it would be popular. There are only a piddling number of western games, and none are very successful.
Deep in the Ankorillian jungles grows the Corpse Flower. A dreaded plant that can entangle and poison you silently.
Hours later your companions notice your absence,
turn and search for you.
As they backtrack they unknowingly pass your last resting place.
A rather smelly, orange plant.
This is a list of laws, axioms, and strong recomendations from published and/or famous game designers/ writers I have recently collected. If you find them, add them. Please do not just add “any old” gamer’s axions, laws, etc.
Across the Thousand Thousand Worlds, there are many gods. We, the Knowers of All Worlds, shall now endeavor to list all of the gods of a few select worlds.
Finghaart’s sausages hasn’t moved since its founding. For all its reknown, it is quite a poor neighborhood.
Gods for the Roman-themed nation of Imperial Arcturus.
The Grey District was once a prosperous inner district in The Hill City of Frankard. It is an erriely silent place now, where people make little in the way of noise or light. It’s district walls are now painted with a Grey Line, a warning as to plague. However, it is not the plague you would expect.
A spear that reflects the life of it’s owner trough small Haiku like poems. As the soldier lives his life the spear casts a shadow of his great exploits. Small runes are carefully etched in the ash shaft after a great battle or another important event in the warriors life.
The Cursed form of poor Shump Thokk. He will offer helpful advice to anyone who dons the helmet.
Bounded by the Stones surrounding the district, “Those of the Stones” bother no one. Unless someone is foolish enough to enter where no soul really belongs.
The Shield District is the old Orcen Mercenary Quarter. It is called the Shield District because Orcen always carried their shields. In terms of buildings, it looks the same as the rest of the town, perhaps a bit more run down. The signs are both in Orcen and the Local tongue. The only differences are The Pits.
The part of the body for the soul of the world has been corruped. Woe be to all.
-Wyyrrenek, GreenMan Father 1620
A family heirloom, worn by the son of a fisherman, that raised them out of squalor and into nobility. What is in a man’s heart that can not be corrupted? What can turn the untainted into rage? Pray to the God’s and you never know the outcome.
To fight the Evil, you must learn of The Evil, master its skills, know its techniques, and be able to use its tools. Only then can you train others to fight The Evil.
—Ilvantus of the Black Robes to the general floor at the Creedos Convocation 1137 DO
The religious assassins known as the revenants are some of the most effective killers in Midian.
Yesterday, new magic appeared upon your world. What happens next.
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.