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John Ronald Reul Tolkien has a great deal to answer for, but nothing so much as the obsession with “world-building”. Of course, it is not really his fault what legions of less-talented inheritors and imitators have done with that concept, but it is undeniable that the professor’s almost unbelievably epic scope of mind convinced a great many authours—of both literature and, more to our purposes, gaming—that a complex, finely-detailed world was a sine qua non for quality or, worse yet, “realism”.
Leaving aside literature, I will opine that this sentiment is almost exactly wrong in regards to gaming. Nothing causes me to glaze over and then close the book quicker than a game-world which begins with “Now, first, the Gods did this…” I’m unlikely to make it to the middle part wherein is written, “Then some very important and interesting people who aren’t the players did the following”, and positively won’t reach the conclusion some 40 pages later that “All of the above is related to the differing hat styles of the dwarves as previously discussed”. It is my firm opinion—wrong though it may well be—that the only human being who ever really cares about this sort of thing in a game-world is that world’s authour.
As an impressionable lad, I was far more impressed with the mostly-blank map in The Hobbit than ever I was with the complex map in The Lord of the Rings. And in gaming, the first map I can recall really inspiring me was a little scribbled thing in the Dave Cook Dungeons & Dragons Expert Rules (1981) showing a small fragment of the Known World called The Grand Duchy of Karameikos. A map such as that, with a few intriguing details over a great deal of blank space, calls out to a certain sort of gamer. The sort of gamer who is inclined to fill in the blanks himself during play, rather than have a game authour fill in the banks for him. This kind of map lives upon the creative use of blank space, which assumes an equal importance to the drawn-in spaces.
All of the above is by way of suggesting that The Phoenix Barony is the sort of product that appeals to gamers of the mindset discussed. The product, available as a 33-page pdf or POD from Lulu, was written by David Bezio, better known at rpg.net as “grubman”, the proponent of the “101 Days of…” movement. His setting is one of the first releases for Labyrinth Lord (LL), a “retro-clone” game designed to allow for the legal publication of material for Basic D&D. And in keeping with that, The Phoenix Barony is deliberately “old-school” by painting in broad strokes and leaving much for the players to detail. It is also a setting, like Greyhawk and Blackmoor, developed through play, which imparts a palpable difference from the modern model of settings designed by committee for publication.
The setting is rather colourfully described as the westernmost province of the westernmost duchy of the westernmost kingdom in the land. This faery-taleish description nicely sets the frontier feeling of the setting, which deliberately evokes memories of the Keep on the Borderlands, the Grand Duchy of Karameikos, and other vanilla settings for days of yore. Note that I don’t use the term “vanilla” in any derogatory sense: the authour is quite clear about his intentions. Bezio is not trying to come up with some cool new take on D&D or fantasy in general. He’s giving you a setting, designed through play, to facilitate play of the LL game system, using its quirks (such as Race as Class) appropriately.
Thus we have an, on the whole, good guy fief on the frontier; mostly human, but with pockets of Elf, Dwarf, and Halfling settlement. We have a semi-medieval, but polytheistic Church. We have a nearby Big Bad, “Geltrod, the Vermin Lord”, who effectively serves the role of lurking Dark Lord (although his personal history seems to have one major goof, in that he was killed the first time by being drowned in a swamp that he created only after his resurrection. Oh well, maybe he has temporal paradox powers).
The setting area is large enough to contain the full gamut of D&D adventures, but admirably contained as well. The map occupies some 4,000 square miles and is presented in the style of the old Gazetteers. It is a trifle hard to read in a few spots, but is entirely functional. Not beautiful. Not awe-inspiring. Like everything else in the product: functional for playing the game.
And that is what really sells me on the product. There are game products that are beautiful and wondrous and nobody can figure out how to play. But The Phoenix Barony wants you to jump in and game it. Further to that end, Bezio zooms in to present a more detailed Adventure Area of some 420 square miles with another hex map. I love this. Its whole purpose is to say, “Roll up a character, put him here, and let’s slay something.” The Adventure Area has a village to serve as a base of operations and a few evocative locations: the Lost Keep, the Fairy Wood, the fishing hamlet of Jub (where all the adult males have mysteriously disappeared), and so on. Enough to generate ideas for several low-level adventures (unless the author actually writes those adventures himself as promised). Further, the village has its own little map with some personalities of the town, such as Red Tom, the old dwarf stablemaster who can’t ride, and Lotho Grubins, who runs such a rowdy tavern that he keeps a trained, albino ape on hand to sic on the customers in emergencies. And again a few adventure hooks, such as the abandoned bakery, whose proprietor disappeared a few months ago (this makes me think that slotting in a take on the classic Against the Cult of the Reptile God would work well). Finally, a short, 1st level scenario is included.
Aside from its “Go Play” qualities, The Phoenix Barony is also admirable in the way it demonstrates the flexibility of the LL rules-set. These rules (actually the original rules) have taken much criticism over the years for being too confining (“Races as Classes? Oh my!”) and I was a proud member of that party two decades ago. It is only with age and something that we’ll pretend is wisdom, that I have been able to see the fallaciousness of that view. This is not to say that LL has total freedom in the way that, say GURPS or HERO, does. But rather that, given the genre, it allows a wide diversity of character types because of the minimal mechanics involves.
The Phoenix Barony is full of this exploitation of the minimal rules. Consider some of the organizations presented in the setting: The Templars of Irnoch, an order of holy warriors dedicated to the Baron and the Church; the Border Guard of Emralla, flamboyant, rapier-wielding cavalry; and the Bordain Rangers, the self-sufficient horsemen. In more modern iterations of D&D, these would all be separate classes or prestige classes or something. In LL, they are Fighters. What separates them is not mechanics, but description (okay, the Bordain Rangers get one minor mechanical feature, +1 to hit and damage with the lance). Perhaps more unique and delightful are Frunder’s Riders, the mounted militia of a Halfling community who ride giant weasels and toads into battle. No “Weasel Rider” Prestige Class, here. No “Giant Toad Tongue Lashing” Feat. Frunder’s Riders are Level 4 Halflings. Done and done.
The Phoenix Barony is well-laid out in three-columns, with the last column generally functioning as a side-bar for NPC’s and organizations. It is also nicely illustrated in a slightly cartoony style that rather reminded me of those D&D adverts from the 80’s, done in comic strip fashion, that used to appear in comic books, although better rendered. I like the illustrations, although those who subscribe to the dungeon-punk aesthetic may not.
There are some things I don’t love in the product: Bezio prefers a more light-hearted game than I do. Even the minimal discussion of gods and weather (about two and half pages) is about two pages more than I wanted. And some of the names do not work for me: the ruler of the barony is called Baron Marshall, which is confusing to me, like Duke Count or Prince Knight. The wizard’s guild is called the Order of the Phoenix, which is unfortunate for anyone who has read Harry Potter, although I’m sure Bezio developed that in play long before the little wizard was a gleam in Ms. Rowling’s eye.
But those are quibbles. The Phoenix Barony is a great little product that has some very specific targets and hits them dead on. The professionals could learn something from this. Games are not literature and all gaming products exist for one purpose: to facilitate play. The genealogies, cosmologies, aeon-long histories that sometimes seem de rigueur for a proper setting too seldomly have any purpose in play (or, in the punchier form: “nobody cares about your bloody calendar”). But a little piece of land and a few adventure hooks? That’s pure gaming gold.
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