A Bit of History
Back in the antediluvian epoch known as the Eighties, a little game company called Bard Games put out a trilogy of books collectively known as Atlantis: The Antediluvian Age. These books—a rules book, a world book, and a bestiary—occupy something of a classic status among those of us of a similarly pre-flood age. Collectively, they presented an fantasy role-playing game set 15,000 years ago in our own forgotten past. It was the Eighties and there were, consequently, many D&Disms—particularly the EDO (that’s elves, dwarves, and orcs)—but there was also a lot more Sword & Sorcery than was usually found at the time. Various setting elements and style bits suggested Robert E. Howard’s Hyborian Age, Karl Edward Wagner’s Antediluvian word of Kane the Killer, Clark Ashton Smith’s stories of Hyperborea and Poseidonis, and Jack Vance’s Dying Earth. There was also a lot of real-world myth and history incorporated, particularly regarding traditions of sunken lands and ancient empires. The Atlanteans thus presented came off as some sort of mix between Plato’s ancient imperials, Tolkien’s Numenorean ubermenschen, and Moorcock’s Granbretanean decadents.
Anyway, it was a great game. The game’s co-creator then moved on to devise another classic, Talislanta, utilizing many of the same ideas. And Atlantis quietly disappeared.
Twenty years later, Morrigan Press has acquired the license and decided to raise the drowned world of Atlantis again as Atlantis: The Second Age (A2A hereafter). The new book combines the functions of the old world book and rules book, with a sampler of the bestiary at the end. Because this is both a brand new game and a revisioning of an old game, I will be keeping both perspectives in mind for this review. I’ll note how A2A functions as an updating of a classic, and also how it might be viewed as a new game appearing in the mid-21st century. Those interested by this review might visit Morrigan’s website for a very useful sampler.
First Impressions: The Book Itself
The book is a 416 page, perfect-bound softcover. It has striking cover with a CGI image of a woman, who might be some sort of priestess, against a background aerial view of the City of Atlantis. The back-cover shows a sample of the world-map, which is very clean and gets some of the “imagined ancient history” theme across. The interior art is quite decent, with no terrible pieces, although there is a very oddly proportioned centaur in the Races chapter. There are a great many illustrations from the original Lexicon, which I appreciated more than the new ones. In any case, art isn’t a major issue for me.
More important is the text. And here, it must be noted, there are some problems. Morrigan Press is a small company and the lack of professional editing is apparent. There are many typos in the book and an informational sidebar in the chapter on Atlantis is rife with “see p.XX” references, almost to the point of being funny. The first two paragraphs of Atlantean history are missing, which makes things a bit confusing. Those with an historical bent might enjoy discovering which of the typos are copying verbatim from the original books (such as the mysterious floating colon in “: Ironhold”) and which are brand-new (many). There are also a number of internal inconsistencies in the rules that good editing would have caught: an Example of Play in the section on Dodging has the character using a skill that is expressly not allowed in Dodging, while a number of the samples spells are built incorrectly
Those who find this sort of thing unforgivable or just maddening be warned. For myself, I have come to expect this sort of thing from small game companies. And on a sociological note, find it interesting that they seem to attract very creative people but no one with any editing abilities of note. Fascinating, no? In any case, I have tried to note the substantive errors that might impact play. I have probably failed to note my own editing mistakes and typos, but rest assured that alert readers will not fail to point them out to me.
Chapter One: The Antediluvian World
Roughly half of the book is devoted to a tour of our earth, many thousands of years ago. The setting, consequently, takes up a significant part of this review. The geography is familiar to modern eyes but is not the same. There is, of course, the island-continent of Atlantis, which will eventually sink beneath the waves. There are other famous Lost Lands as well, such as Ys, Lemuria, and Mu (which is presented as proto-Australia); the only famous Lost Land I can think of that is not presented here is Lyonesse. There are other geographical differences as well. The Sahara, for instance, is a great inland sea while the continent of Jambu (proto-Asia) is not at this time connected with that of Europa.
In general, this Antediluvian setting is a Bronze Age world that’s just beginning to use iron, but at the same time, it’s a post-apocalyptic world in which the wonders of First Age Atlantis, such as automata and vril (magical energy) collectors, are still uncovered and pressed into service to power artificial lights and flying chariots. In this way it is reminiscent of Wagner’s setting for Kane (the Bloodstone and the Scylredi submarines) or Moorcock’s Tragic Millennium (ornithopters and flame-lances). The ancient Atlantean artificers are referred to as “savant-adepts” along the lines of Granbretan’s “sorcerer-scientists”. Atlantis has suffered disaster (the Great Cataclysm which occurred some two centuries prior to the default start time is the first of the great convulsions which will eventually destroy the land entirely), but it is still the First World, with clocks that permit cartographic and naval dominance over the world, functioning water and sewer systems, and a ban on slavery. This is contrasted with, for instance, Pictland, which is exactly how Bob Howard always saw it: nasty, brutish, and Stone Age.
There is a pretty clear division, in fact, into the modern “Three World” model. Atlantis is, as mentioned, clearly the First World, along with some former colonies such as Hesperia (land of the Amazons). Then there is a large group of Second World nations, most of which were either former Atlantean colonies or lands in which some Atlantean innovations were adopted or adapted. These include Tharshesh, the leading rival to Atlantis in commercial power; Khemit, the proto-Egypt that controls a proto-Suez Canal; Minoa, a nearly intact former colony that is now independent; and Khitai, the proto-China. The many Third World peoples range the gamut of what social scientists and pulp writers used to call “barbarism” and include the hardy Cimmerians of Hyperborea, the vestigial neaderthaloids of proto-Tierra del Fuego, the fierce Kurgan nomads of Scythia, the proto-Polynesians of the Elysium Sea, and, of course, the bewoaded Picts.
All of the areas of the world are sketched out, generally with some description of inhabitants (both human and not so much), notable geographic features, political and religious structures, some cultural customs, commercial and political relations with other nations, and frequently some kind of story hook. I’ll return to that last feature below. The general setting philosophy is “breadth not depth” (a philosophy familiar to those who know Talislanta). Most of the nations in the world receive a few paragraphs on the order of a World Book Encyclopedia write-up. We aren’t told the name of the Marhashi king, the history of his familiar relations, or how he is going to do something terrible next year. For this reviewer, that is a positive feature. There is neither meta-plot nor notable NPC’s who are better than you. The world is presented as a snapshot that is about to come into motion once you start play.
Instead of important NPC’s and things about to happen that don’t necessarily involve the PC’s, you get tons of hooks. These are suggestive descriptions about a place, mentions of mysteries that no one has yet solved, and snippets of travelers’ logs describing expeditions in which something horrible happened before the diary could be completed. There are many, many unexplored lands that are only known through references in ancient, First Age maps and journals. For the historically minded, this is very much parallel to the situation of Europeans during the Age of Discovery. Legends tell of the Satyriades, for example, three islands in the Arctic Circle that are home to Satyrs and strange ceremonies. The remains of a yellowing journal tell the story of a horrific expedition to the Isle of Dreams, a seemingly beatific place where the crew went mad for unknown reasons. A number of the locations have overtones of Poe’s Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym and Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness, which inspire a lot of gaming ideas on my part.
A significant amount of attention in the world guide is paid to Atlantis, but despite the name, the game is not necessarily focused upon the island-continent. Instead, the entire globe is presented in its antediluvian state. There is, I think, an assumption that your game will use Atlantis in some fashion, but there is nothing to force this either. I have been sketching out ideas for a game set in the Elysian Islands (proto-Polynesia) which doesn’t require a single longsword, piece of mail armour, or anything remotely “medieval” or “European”. This, to me, is a good thing. The original game was the first I ever saw which made playing a Sub-Saharan African or South American or Polynesian or (subcontinent) Indian not just viable, but as viable and interesting as playing out the northern European pseudo-medievalia in which most FRP games flourish. Twenty years later, not much has changed in the gaming scene; the shadow of Tolkien is long.
The strength of this whole approach is that the game setting is wide-open to be handled howsoever the group wishes. Old-school dungeon-bashes are easy to justify with the ruins of the First Age and even some suggestive pre-human structures. But almost any kind of game finds multiple opportunities in the setting: political games (Atlantean ambassadors in Tartessos could have all sorts of trouble and/or fun. So could those enmeshed in the relations between the proto-South American nations of Quecha and Nazca), military games (the Manuan tribes attempt to unify the Elysian Islands or the Fomorians launch a slave raid), merchant games (trying to run the trade route from Marhashi to Sheba or even smuggling Black Lotus powder into Hesperia), exploratory games (most of the world is a vague rumour with the potential to maker a man’s fortune’s or kill him), struggles against the environment (the mammoth-hunters of frozen Tamalan or the savages of Ku), Howardian strife between Civilization and Barbarism (there’s tons of barbarians, but the Picts would be a great choice to throw at the players), and struggles against Cosmic Evil (the Isle of Dark Gates might be the door into Hell, while the Serpent Cult of the Gorgons seems ripe for Big Bad status). Just about any type of game that I can think of would find not one but several ripe locations in this ancient earth. A quick change of location could also admirably change the tone of one campaign: the grim struggle for survival among the Cimmerian tribes might be followed by Epic Fantasy among the paladins of Avalon might be followed by some nasty politicking among the city-states of Hellas.
Having mentioned Tolkien’s continuing influence above, I note that the game also includes some standard Tolkienian EDO. There are reclusive, longbow wielding, nature-loving Wood Elves in Broceliande; haughty, magical High Elves of Ys; sturdy, subterranean, gem-loving dwarves in the multi-leveled fortress-mine of Ironhold in Hyperborea; and nasty little goblinses serving the mysterious master of Darkhold. There is also that D&D-derived pseudo-Tolkienism, the human/goblin crossbreed, called a Netherman in this game. These things failed to interest me 20 years ago and the same holds true today. High Fantasy EDO seems conceptually at odds with the S&S aesthetic I see in the Antediluvian world.
And yet, there are some really distinctive spins on these staples as well. For example, the Nethermen have an origin, unlike the D&D half-orcs whose presumed very unpleasant origin is generally glossed over. And the origin ties into the setting very well: the Atlantean sorcerers of the First Age were addicted to creating monsters and hybrids in a nod to Vance’s Dying Earth. Many of the beasties of the Second Age are feral descendants of those ancient experiments. The Nethermen were originally intended as a soldier-race; after the Great Cataclysm, they were left to fend for themselves and became the nasty half-orcs we all know. This explanation also serves for the furry race of the Andamen as well as numerous aberrant creatures such as mantichorae and griffons.
And while the Hyperborean dwarves are too generic for my tastes, they dwarves of Punt (proto-Madagascar) are still a favourite of mine. They owe nothing to the learned Professor or to D&D, but rather derive from fanciful notions regarding the pygmy peoples. The Puntian dwarves are African (or Godwanan), live aboveground, are talented alchemists, and have an elite military unit of ostrich-cavalry. I think they are great. Take that Gloin son of Groin.
The aesthetic also suggests obvious ways to tweak the other standard races to make them fit better. It would be relatively simple to re-envision the Hyperborean dwarves back into their mythological selves: more twisted and trollish. I also think that the Elves could be retooled into something along the lines of Moorcock’s Melniboneans or Vadhagh. I’ve thought that in my Antediluvian World, the elves are the inventors of the Dark Arts and are thought to be the offspring of demons.
All that said, it may be a strength of the setting that High Fantasy stands alongside S&S alongside almost-straight historical possibilities. The gamebook itself acknowledges these various styles and the tweaking that can be done to bring the world more in line with your visions. I think the book could use some greater discussion of these options, with specific suggestions to GM’s, but even the brief mention in the preface is more than most games bring to the table.
Fans of the old game will note that there is lot more attention given to the EDO in A2A. There are pages describing the Dwarven fortress of Ironhold, the Wood Elven city of Celiande, and the goblin dungeon of Darkhold that weren’t in the original. Whether this is an improvement or not will depend upon your interest in the High Fantasy races. I will say that even though I have little interest in High Fantasy dwarves and would likely never use them in my games, Ironhold is a very serviceable Moria-riff. And Darkhold has some neat adventure hooks, such as the great subterranean lake which supplies the population’s water, but whose black waves terrify the goblins; there are nice throwaways about water system maintenance duty being the most feared assignment any Darkholder can draw and how escaping prisoners who can make it to the lake are generally safe from pursuit. Though not, necessarily, from the lake’s mysterious threats.
There is also much more information on Atlantis. Particularly how their magical and mundane technologies affect their society. I was surprised to see the inclusion of clocks and yet it works for me, giving the Atlantean naval enterprise a bit of the British Empire feel (clocks being the key to working out longitude which, in t urn, allows for vastly improved cartography). The rationale behind Atlantean pyramids is now explained, not simply as a piece of characteristic architecture, but as an essential element in Atlantean magic. Pyramids and stone circles were developed in the First Age as a means of collecting and focusing telluric energy in the form of “vril”. This is a very nice nod to the more occult speculations about Atlantis (“vril” was coined by Bulwer Lytton, a Victorian Rosicrucian). The collected vril was then used to power automata and fearsome weapons, provide artificial illumination and purify water supplies. The natural telluric currents run along the surface as ley lines and the First Age savant-adepts utilized those as well to construct roads that sheltered those who used them and powered vril chariots. All of the thinking behind these expansions fit in with the old game’s conception of Atlantean sorcery as scientific.
With these additions to the world as presented twenty years ago, it should come as no surprise that some things have been lost. The publisher and principle authour has confirmed for me that some lost bits will reappear in later, regional supplements, but I don’t know if all will. I noticed, for example, that two islands off the coast of Khitai—Babillary Island and Pauk— are not in A2A. Each of these received approximately 6 lines of detail in the original and were extremely minor locations that anyone could be mistaken for having never even noticed in the first place. On the other hand, both of them exemplified the things I loved in the original: a couple of evocative adjectives, an adventure hook, and nothing else. For the record, Babillary Island is a tiny, autonomous monarchy whose queen maintains an extensive harem of male consorts. Babillarian corsairs prowl the seas near Khitai in search of male slaves to please the queen. Pauk, on the other hand, is nothing but sparse jungle and rocks; it is said to be inhabited by a species of giant, cave-dwelling spider. It’s also the reputed resting place of a famous pirate’s treasure.
More notably, the addition of the EDO communities resulted in a corresponding loss of detail on some of the major human settlements. The original game had maps of several important human cities: Atlantis, Tartessos, Acheron, Vaca, and Tang. The new book retains the exact same maps with three changes. First, the map of Atlantis has been replaced with a new (possibly computer-generated) map. It looks fancier in some respects, but it came out a bit blurry in the printing and doesn’t resemble the other maps at all. Second, the map of Acheron is gone entirely. It appears to have been replaced with a full-page picture of a desert chick in armoured bikini; I’d rather have the map. Third, and most importantly, the keyed descriptions to the cities are gone.
The last is the biggest blow. The original game had maps with anywhere from thirty to seventy keyed locations. These included governmental centers, temples, ghettoes, bathhouses, eating and lodging establishments, litigants’ offices, toymakers, antiquarians, and more oddball locations. These were the first, substantive city maps I ever saw as a gamer and they were intensely useful. As with the rest of the book, the keyed descriptions were just a couple of sentences and a hook. The afore-mentioned litigant’s offices (in Tang, the Khitan capital), immediately suggested the possibility of having the characters run into legal troubles. More prosaically, most of the cities had various equipment shops, which offered various quality goods at various prices. The publisher has confirmed to me that these locations (or an update of them) will return in the planned regional guides. I can’t figure out why the map of Acheron was replaced by that picture of the bikini chick, but the first regional guide is to be that of Khemit so the map should return relatively soon.
Similarly, the messy, hand-drawn regional maps have been replaced with clean, easily legible, computer-generated maps. These new maps also have a lot less detail. The original regional maps showed major rivers, settlements, and trade routes. The new maps just show nations. Again, the publisher confirms that the more detailed regional maps will be contained in forthcoming regional guides.
Some closing comments on Chapter One: someone once said that the planet earth is the ultimate kitchen-sink setting. It has ninjas and knights and Vikings and cowboys and pirates. The Antediluvian World of A2A gives you that. It is a great, evocative, wide-open setting that can accommodate virtually any type of game, while still maintaining some kind of overall consistency and feel. On the forums, the question came up as to how well it would accommodate Conan-style games. The answer is simple—very well—but that question touched upon a broader one. Twenty years ago, there was no Conan-game; now there is (actually, several if you count out-of-print). Since you could play in a licensed, Conan game, would you want A2A to play a Conan game? I thought about this and realized that I would rather play a Conan-style game in the A2A world than the Hyborian Age proper. Possibly in part because the shadow of Conan covers the actual Hyborian age too much for me, but more importantly, this world fits together better than Howard’s (which isn’t intended derogatorily, since Howard wasn’t trying to create a consistent setting). That said, I’d also rather play bog-standard D&D in this world than I would in Oerth or the Forgotten Realms (which is exactly what I did twenty years ago).
Those gamers who prefer meta-plots, or knowing that the “real story” will be revealed in a coming supplement, or those who want in-depth, anthropological detail of foreign cultures, will probably find Chapter One sparse and unsatisfying. Those who prefer the old-school approach of the Judge’s Guild Wilderlands, for example, will find this presentation just about right. Those familiar with the original game, will find Chapter One matches up about 80 to 90 percent with the old Lexicon. The major differences include more detail on Atlantean technology, more information of EDO communities, and the loss of the keyed city maps. Whether these are improvements or not will depend upon individual preferences. Of course, those who have the Lexicon will have access to any information lost and could easily use it in a game while using the new mechanics. Which brings us to Chapter Two.
Chapter Two: The Rules
After some two hundred pages of setting, it may come as a bit of a surprise to find the rules chapter occupies 12 pages. Subsequent chapter have rules as well, but this chapter provides the basis. It is a unified, single-die mechanic called the OMNI System.
The original game used a stripped down, more unified version of the AD&D rules. At the time, it seemed oddly sparse to me. That was because AD&D had taught me to expect complexity. It took me some while to recognize the relative elegance of the original rules. Those rules were further refined in the first and succeeding editions of Talislanta. The fourth and current (though not for long) edition of Talislanta resulted in a very nice iteration of the mechanic. So nice that Morrigan decided that it could be removed from the setting and turned into more of a generic system. They currently publish a fully generic system book with this mechanic. A2A is an implementation of that OMNI System.
The basic mechanic is this: roll 1d20, add or subtract appropriate modifiers, and compare the final result to the OMNI Table:<*><1 Mishap
<*>1-5 Failure
<*>6-10 Partial Success
<*>11-19 Success
<*>>19 Critical Success
It is a straightforward, transparent mechanic. The chance of any roll succeeding is obvious and easy to calculate.
The principle modifiers to any roll are the relevant Attribute and Skill. Both of these exist only as pluses or minuses. An average person has a Strength (and everything else) of 0, a strong man might have a Strength of 4, and a weak man might have a -2. If Hyrkan the Scythian wants to perform some astonishing feat of horsemanship, he would add his Dexterity (let’s say he has DEX 2) and Riding (we’ll give him Riding 4) to his dice roll (for a total of +6). In an uncontested act such as that, the GM may levy a penalty as well (hypothetically we’ll say -5 for a difficult trick). His +6 minus the GM’s -5 means he adds 1 to his die roll to try this trick. That means Hyrkan gets a full success on a 10 or greater, meaning he has a 55% chance. It also means that he can’t get a Mishap and he has a 10% chance of getting a Critical Success.
Everything else is just an elaboration on that basic mechanic. I am a great fan of Talislanta 4th ed. and find this a lovely mechanic. It has very little handling time and the success levels allow you narrate outcomes with great freedom. Those who prefer more complex systems, or systems which can be “gamed” may find it lacking. Those who prefer greater direction and specificity from the mechanic will find this far too abstract (for example, what happens if Hyrkan got a Partial Success on his trick? What exactly does that mean?). Those who dislike flat probability may not like the single d20, although it would take very little work to convert the OMNI Table to 2d10, 3d6, 5d4 or whatever else you like because of its lucidity.
One quirk that may be obvious is that the OMNI Table favours those who are acting. Although the average guy has a flat 50% of full success, he actually has a 75% chance of some kind of success when you include partials. I like this quirk as subtly expressing an “act now” imperative, but I know others who find it inelegant and asymmetrical. As with altering the type and number of dice, the Action Table can also be changed in this regard. It is also terribly easy to add complexity or additional modifiers if so desired. For example, adding a Passion trait would mean just another modifier, so that Hyrkan might have “Fiercely Loyal to his Tribe” 3 and that would just plug into the existing system. Or, if you wanted to play up the darker edge of S&S, you might have the characters define a Tragic Flaw, along the lines of (early) Elric’s “Expects the best of the worst people” or Kane’s “Must screw his allies on the verge of victory”. The character might have to roll against his Tragic Flaw using his Will attribute in order to resist his urges.
The basic OMNI mechanic is, ostensibly, oriented toward task resolution, but it’s free-form nature and success levels mean that it could be reworked as a conflict resolution mechanic in most circumstances if so desired. Returning to my example of Hyrkan, perhaps he wants to perform this difficult trick in order to impress his favourite girl. As described in the book, the roll determines how he performs the trick, but doesn’t determine her reaction to him as a result (task resolution). But the GM could switch it to conflict resolution and say that the roll is determining her reaction. So that if Hyrkan fails, it may be that he performs the trick perfectly (as befits the bad-ass Scythian nomad), but that the object of his affection finds him arrogant and vain and isn’t impressed. If he rolled a Critical Success, one could say that he actually fell off his horse, but that this injury endears him to his love. This would be more difficult in combat, however, given the use of hit points.
Chapter Three: Character Creation
Characters in A2A have seven primary stats, mostly familiar from D&D: Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Will, Charisma, and (a new one) Perception. These are to be determined randomly by rolling a d20 and comparing to a chart. The essence of this is rather like rolling your stats in D&D and only using the 3-18 to determine your bonus/penalty. Unlike the D&D 3d6 method, however, one should expect a broader range of possibilities given the relatively flat probability distribution.
Those familiar with Talislanta will notice that the Speed attribute has been reclassified as a secondary, derived attribute. The racial “packages” in the following chapter are supposed to be the only modifiers to Speed. This is a strange decision to me since only a couple of the races (even if I wanted to use them) provide a modifier to Speed and only as a point or two. It seems more elegant to consider Speed a primary attribute and generate as the others and I intend to do so.
Those who like random character-creation or are familiar with D&D will be right at home with this character generation system. But I believe there is a serious mistake made in this chapter by not presenting a point-buy option since the Callings (character templates or archetypes) are point-buy. The result is oddly inconsistent to me and this design decision frankly puzzles me. I note that the original game, which was much more D&D-derived, had both random and point-buy options.
Fortunately, it is not particularly difficult to devise a point-buy scheme. Since there are seven (or eight, if you like) primary attributes, the GM can simply assign a certain number of points to be divided. This, incidentally, allows the GM to set the level of competency for the campaign. Thus the GM could allow seven points to be spread ought among the attributes, allowing someone to have a +1 in everything, or specialize a bit more. The GM should probably allow a character to take some minuses and gain more points, since a -1 or -2 is still a reasonable stat for people to have (equivalent to an 7 or 8 in D&D); he might, however, set an arbitrary cap at -2 or -3 to prevent mini/maxing if that isn’t the preferred play style.
The secondary attributes include Speed (already discussed), Combat Rating, Magic Rating, Hit Points, and Renown. Taking the last first, Renown starts off at 1 and rises when the GM determines that the character’s actions have altered it. It functions essentially as a further modifier to Charisma-related actions. Hit Points start at 20, plus Constitution, plus any bonuses from Race (tough guys like the semi-giant Aesir get a bonus), plus any bonuses from Calling (see Chapter Six for Callings). Hit points are fixed after creation, although a character could use experience points to buy a few more during play with a specific Talent (see Chapter Five for Talents). There is some discussion in the GM’s Chapter on playing with the base Hit Points to change the feel of your game.
Combat and Magic Ratings provide the base modifier for use in combat and magical actions, respectively. Combat Rating (CR) is the average of a character’s Strength and Dexterity, while Magic Rating (MR) is the average of a character’s Intelligence and Will. Going back to our example character of Hyrkan the Scythian, if this steppe warrior wants to chop at someone with his scimitar, he would use his Combat Rating plus his relevant bladed weapons skill (skills are discussed in Chapter Five) as the modifiers to his die roll. If Hyrkan was also a practicing shaman, he would use his Magic Rating plus appropriate Mode (the magical Modes are discussed in Chapter Eight) to try and summon the Spirit of Grandfather Winter for a chat.
These derived Combat and Magic Ratings come from the earlier editions of Talislanta. When the fourth edition of Talislanta came out a few years ago, one of the notable changes was that CR and MR became stand-alone stats rather than derived. This has been something of a hot-button issue for Tal fans, with some strong opinions on both sides. I find that the decision to revert to the older method in A2A is sensible, given the radically different nature of character creation between the two games. Talislanta 4th edition uses an archetype system in which stats are given because they “feel right”. This wouldn’t work for the more structured A2A system.
This chapter also introduces the idea of the Threat Rating. Characters begin with a TR of 1 and increase as they gain experience. The main function of the TR is to use it to gauge how much experience is to be gained during an adventure. A TR 1 PC gains more experience in overcoming a TR 5 challenge than a TR 10 PC does. This is a fairly neat system, except that there are no rules in the book giving guidance on how to assign TR’s to various challenges. This is a substantive editing error. One could probably come up with something using the Difficulty Levels of tasks, but I have not tested that idea. The publisher is aware of this mistake and has indicated that they will be providing this information on their website. The TR system may, in any case, be more work than necessary—I think one could simply decide on an appropriate XP reward at the end of every story and scale it to taste—but I realize that many gamers prefer a more structured method to advancement.
Chapter Four: Races
Races in A2A function as packages. Mechanically, they are a bundle of modifiers to attributes along with some inherent Talents (like Dwarven Darksight and Andaman claws; Talents are discussed in Chapter Five) and skills. There are a variety of races to choose from, including the standard, High Fantasy EDO, as well as centaurs, satyrs, tritons, Aesir (small giants), druas (semi-dark elves), and lizard-folk (the Ahl-at-rab). Several of the races are mechanically distinguished by sub-races, such the Hyperborean (Tolkienian ) and Southern (Puntian) dwarves.
The original game offered a more limited selection of High Fantasy races. The new offerings, such as centaurs and lizard-folk, indicate the increased shift towards High Fantasy and away from S&S. As with my comments regarding this in Chapter One, it is, again, rather easy to ignore those races if it is so wished.
Having made obvious that my interest is not with the High Fantasy races doesn’t mean that this chapter is not of interest. Because, in true S&S fashion, the different human nationalities and ethnicities function as races. And, given the global coverage of the game, there are quite a few of these. Each ethnicity gets two skills from a culturally tailored list. This provides a nice, simple, mechanical differentiation between, say, civilized Atlanteans and savage Picts, and between the canoe-hopping Elysian Islanders and the desert-bound Turanians.
One quirk in this is that some folk are better than other folk. Because in addition to the two skills, some ethnicities also get a bonus to CR or MR. This is on top of the skill choices. This decision is very much a matter of taste: I can see that many will find it “unbalancing” (why pick one of the lesser backgrounds?), while other will see it as flavourful and in keeping with the harsh tone of S&S. I’m reminded, in this regard, of the debates around character creation in Stormbringer, which was very unbalanced in the earlier editions and has become less and less so over the years. Of course, background was randomly rolled in that game so there is a notable difference. Those who are uncomfortable with the system as presented could easily modify it by making the CR/MR bonus an option instead of the skill.
Chapter Five: Skills
This chapter actually covers Skills and Talents. Talents are obviously derived from D&D’s Feats and come in Talents Trees. The distinction between Skills and Talents is not altogether clear; although Talents include super- and unnatural abilities, like Darksight and the magical training, they also include more mundane abilities like Amazing Dodge. Perhaps one could consider those Talents as “super skills” or highly trained versions of more pedestrian skills. I rather like the Talent Trees as mapping out a bit of a life-story or career path. There are multiple ways to have some Magical Orders, for example, because different Talent Trees can access them. In a game without Classes as such, this can be very useful for giving a sense that the character is not just a random assemblage of stats. Many players don’t need that kind of mechanical aid, but I have found that it can be helpful.
The actual Talents are a mixed bag. It is difficult for me to determine how they were constructed; some seem ostensibly better than others. More disconcertingly, many of the Talents simply add points to stats, which can also be accomplished by Creation Points (during character creation) or experience points (in play), although for different costs. This is confusing and creates a layer of complexity that does not seem to add anything. For example, I can buy a Talent during creation for 5 points that lets me add +1 to a stat or I could by an increase to a stat at the same time for a cost of 10 points. Rather obvious which I would pick, but unless I had learned all the Talents, I might not have known that one existed and would have taken the general creation rules as my guide, spending the 10 points. In effect, this creates a game-within-the-game, in which player knowledge of the system is rewarded by more efficient character builds. Some games, such as Exalted and D&D 3.141, thrive on this sort of thing, but a game which advertises itself as rules-lite should not. I suggest removing these sorts of Talents from play.
The Skill list is of middling size, longer than Castles & Crusades but shorter than D&D 3.141. Exactly how long a skill list should be is another fiercely debated matter; for my tastes, the list is a bit too long and could use some trimming. But it is interesting to note that the list is a bit shorter than Talislanta 4th’s : 57 in A2A vs. 95 in Tal 4 (not including the five arcane skills and the four Background skills). Part of that shortening is illusory, as some skills have been lumped into meta-skills, such as “Lore” which must have a sub-skill attached to it and which covers skills such as Geography and History which were separate skills in Talislanta 4. To me, this is a bit too much; I’d let players use the meta-skill for anything with a substitution penalty so that a guy with Lore is a generally knowledgeable guy. Ditto the Language skill. But I know that some folks prefer greater specialization or verisimilitude. In any, the system is flexible enough to take it.
On a final note, this chapter really should have a master list of Skills and Talents, which it does not.
Chapter Six: Callings
Callings are much like Package Deals in HERO, although they more fully define a character than those. In that way, they are more like templates or archetypes around which to hang a character. Unlike WEG’s Star Wars templates or Talislanta’s archetypes, however, there are substantial rules on how to build them. Each character has 50 Creation Points to build a Calling. These will be used to buy stat increases, resources, Skills, and Talents (with the latter two taking the lion’s share of points, I suspect).
The game presents some thirty pre-made Callings and they are very evocative. I’ve seen few fantasy games that suggest characters like the Elasippean Horse Breeder or the Gadirean Gem Merchant. The Callings suggest the importance of culture in the game, which is one of the elements that prevent A2A from being standard fantasy. The original game made some movements towards this, but never enough for my tastes. The new game takes it much further. For example, the Asterean Ivory Hunter, the Khemit Oasis Guide, and the Ngani Tracker would all have been represented as “Scouts” in the original game (and “Rangers” in D&D). But they come across as quite distinct in the new game.
I expect that, as evocative as these pre-made Callings are, many players will be creating their own. I believe that this is one of the more complex operations in the game, but anyone who has ever made a HERO or GURPS character will, I believe, find it very simple by comparison. The biggest difficulty would be in choosing the options, rather than crunching the numbers. See my comments on the previous chapter for problems I have with the Talents and the lack of a master list of the same.
A nice side effect of making your own Calling for a character is that you have also created a new template for NPCs. If I desire to create a Calling that represents a Sheban Wonderworker (and I do), I now have a basic skeleton for any other Sheban Wonderworkers that I might need. I think this is a pretty neat little trick.
Chapter Seven: Combat
The Combat rules are pulled fairly straight from Talislanta 4th ed.. As is to be expected in this sort of game, the mechanics for combat are a bit more complicated than most other activities (Magic being the other exceptions, but it is the same mechanic as described above. There are just more nuances and implementations to consider. At it’s heart, however, sword-slinging is CR + Weapon Skill – Opponent’s CR + Weapon Skill.
One of the great innovations of Talislanta 4th ed. over previous incarnations was the removal of random damage rolls. keeps this idea. Weapons have a fixed Damage Rating and how one does on his OMNI Table roll modifies this, while Armour worn by the opponent reduces damage. This packaging of greater information in a single roll greatly enhances the speed of combat without losing the opportunities that randomness can give. A Partial Success delivers half damage while a Critical Success requires the victim to make a Constitution roll or drop out of the fight.
The new game adds an additional complexity in the form of damage types. Weapons are noted as doing either Slashing, Piercing, or Bludgeoning damage. This is somewhat reminiscent of Exalted but is not as complex. The only affect of the damage type is that different armours protect at different levels against the types. Some will find this move toward verisimilitude and tactical complexity welcome; others will find it burdensome. I believe it will be fairly simple to ignore the damage types, although one would have to decide upon a general armour protection rating (perhaps averaging the three or picking the highest).
There are some confusions in the chapter due to poor editing, notably in the sections on Dodging and Parrying. The helpful example of Dodging in action shows a character using a Skill that is not actually usable for Dodging purposes. Parrying seems to have lost a line describing what Skills and stats might be used; in addition, I believe that the Parrying bonus given by shields is incorrect (it should be +3, I think, not +2). I know several people who have decided to remove Parry altogether and make it a function of the Weapon Skill rating; I’m sympathetic to that idea, which simplifies things a lot, although I also like the idea that a character might be a better defensive fighter than an aggressive one.
The chapter concludes with several pages of discussion on how to stage and describe combats and how to use the OMNI system to do something other than just hack at your opponent until he drops dead. This last is another strength of the system for those with rules-lite preferences, and a weakness for those who liked Rolemaster and will likely find the whole thing entirely too touchy-feely.
Chapter Eight: Magic
The magic system of Talislanta’s 4th edition was, to me, a thing of beauty and the implementation in this adds a further bit of improvement. It is an Effects-based, point-buy system, reminiscent of HERO or GURPS, but substantially streamlined and simplified.
The fundamental concepts in the game’s magic are Orders and Modes. In general, a magicians’ Order defines his relationship with his magic; his Modes describe what he can do with it. That distinction doesn’t hold up completely, but I believe it gets to the heart of it.
Magic use requires the possession of the relevant Magical Order Talent. The Orders are somewhat analogous to magical colleges or schools, but on the more generic end of the spectrum. The Orders are Astrology (not just reading the stars, but calling upon their powers), the Dark Arts (classic S&S dealing with supernatural beings of the less pleasant sorts), Elementalism (which is composed of four sub-Orders relating to control of the four classical elements), High Sorcery (scientific manipulation of vril), Invocation (religious magic), Mysticism (subtle effects resembling yogic siddhis and the like), Runic Magic (the dwarven art of power), Shamanism (a more benevolent way of dealing with natural, as opposed to supernatural, spirits), and Witchcraft (a form of magic based on natural rules of sympathy and connection). A wizard’s Order tells you more about his conceptual approach to magic than what he can actually do. Both an Astrologer and a Witch can hurt people with magic, but the Astrologer is more likely to understand this as affecting someone’s destiny to result in a “coincidental” accident, while the Witch will snap a chicken bone to cause her opponent’s leg to break. The Orders have a few mechanical effect, such as bonuses and penalties to the various Modes (the practitioners of the Dark Arts get a +4 bonus to Summonings while High Sorcerers are barred from using the subtle Influence Mode) and some specific implementations of others (the spells of Mystics are invisible, but they must be in a meditative state to cast them). The real thrust of the Order is to colour the character’s magic.
Modes are the specific implementations of magic. There are nine: Attack, Illusion, Influence, Kinetic, Manifest, Manipulate, Sensory, Summon, and Ward. Possession of a Mode skill allows a magician to use any spell of his Order in that Mode if he has access to it. Beginning characters know 5+Intelligence number of spells in any Mode that they possess. One has to remember that Modes are Effects-based: creating a stream of lava to engulf someone utilizes the Attack Mode, not the manifest Mode.
The original game, being D&D-derived, used classes and class-based spell lists. Each class studied one or two particular Fields of Magic. These have not been translated directly into the new game. Instead, as discussed above, the Orders are broader than the old Fields, which described what the magician could do. This is one of the biggest conceptual changes between the old and new games. In the old game, Druids practiced the Field of Elemental Magic while Witches practiced Elemental and either Black Magic or Enchantment; in A2A, both belong to the Witchcraft Order. In the old game, wicked Necromancers specialized in Black Magic, while haughty, S&S Wizards practiced High Magic, another form of summoning and dealing with demons; in A2A both would be handled by the Dark Arts Order. This change results from dropping the spell-lists and freeing up spell-creation via the Modes. In the old game, both Black Magic and High Magic has spells for summoning demons; the new game subsumes all that under the Summoning Mode.
Generally speaking, I believe this is an improvement. And yet the old Fields of Magic were one of the biggest draws to the game. The power of classed-based games is that they do a lot of the work in defining your character; the old Wizard and Necromancer were very distinct. In A2A the players have to do more of the work in distinguishing them. In large part, this would be handled by Callings. You could create a Calling called “Atlantean Wizard” and make it distinct from another called “Atlantean Necromancer” by changing the Skills, Talents, and Modes (there’s a very nice Talent called Pact which grants a bonus to one Mode for having signed a Pact with a nasty entity; this reeks of the foul Necromancer)
Another option is to create new Orders. You could create an Enchantment Order with strong bonuses in Illusion and Manifest and—abracadabra—you have recreated the old Magician class (one of my favourites). It bears repeating that, because the actual mechanics are so straightforward, this sort of tinkering is simple. Of course, those unfamiliar with the old game won’t miss the Magician anyway.
Each Order is provided with a number of sample spells, both to give a feel for the Order’s magics and to provide “out-of-the-box” use. Unfortunately a subtle editing error occurs in this section to hamper the second use. Many of the sample spells are constructed incorrectly and break the rules. This is sloppy work that could really hamper initial use of the game. I would suggest that the sample spells only be used as ideas and that if one wishes to use one, the player try building the spell himself (and see how close or far wrong the sample is).
This chapter also includes the rules for Enchanting items, which works much like casting a spell with the Enchantment Skill standing in for the Mode, and a sampling of magical and alchemical products.
Chapter Nine: Equipment
I particularly like that this game considers using items made of different materials. Bronze is the default metal for weapons and armour; those items made of other substances are generally more effective at a greater cost and much harder to come by. This is a small bit of rules complexity that adds a lot of flavour regarding the disparate states of technological advancement across the globe. It also opens up the possibility of giving goodies to players that are not, in fact, magical. I think that stone implements should also have been included in this list as there are a number of Stone Age cultures, but that’s a minor quibble.
Otherwise this chapter provides a lot of weapons and some other gear, such as vehicles. Atlantean vril-powered vehicles and weapons are the most interesting of these; that they are a mixed lot conceptually should come as no surprise. They range from pulpy to classical to modern fantasy magitech. I like the vimana as examples of the first, hovering sledges that remind me a bit of Barsoomian flyers. Galleys oared by brass automata are perfect examples of the second category, while vril chariots that run along the ley line roads exemplify the third. I don’t like the flying ships that exactly resemble regular sailing ships that fly; the idea seems stale to me and doesn’t fit in with the vimana, but the aquanos could see use like the Scylredi subs from Wagner. Turning to weapons, I like the flame-spears, which seem inspired by Hawkmoon’s flame-lances; I don’t the crystal-swords whose exact function is a little obscure to me (they project some kind of force field). But I take the equipment as suggestions and feel no guilt about chucking what I don’t care for.
Chapter Ten: Religion
A short chapter more intended to give flavour than any real detail. This chapter is the analogy to an even shorter chapter in the original Bestiary and its inclusion pleasantly surprised me.
The section on Atlantean religion is the longest and most interesting for how it grapples with a difficult question: “How Hellenic is Atlantis?” Atlantis is generally thought to have been invented (or first described) by Plato in two, linked dialogs, Timaeus and Critias. Thus the more historically-minded conception of Atlantis tends to be Hellenic and the Atlantis of the game is, at least in part, of that type. The ten kingdoms, for example, are the ones named by Plato. But, it is often forgotten that Plato says that the names were translated into Greek from Egyptian by Critias elder; further, they had been translated into Egyptian at some more remote point from the original Atlantean (whatever language that might have been; Lewis Spence thought it might have been Basque). So, in typical, Hellenic style, the tutelary god of the Atlanteans was rendered as Poseidon, but one was to understand that the Atlanteans themselves didn’t call him that and that, to our modern eyes, he wouldn’t have been the same being.
All of that baggage is at the forefront of the Atlantean pantheon and the game designers have wrestled with how Hellenic to make it. Their solution is to give the Atlanteans a Pantheon of Thirteen, who greatly resemble the Olympians and have their names, but do not exactly accord with Classical Greek conceptions. They have also added other deities, such as Harpocrates (the Egyptian god more commonly known by the Greek name “Horus”), but given him a distinct portfolio (he is the God of Secrets to the Atlanteans). These gods are conceived more as primal, inhuman forces than the fallible, superheroes of Classical Greece, which further differentiates them. All in all, this is a fairly elegant answer to the question, although I wish they had made the gods even more distinct from their Olympian counter-parts; Poseidon should probably have been given a larger portfolio than Zeus given the Atlantean exaltation of him.
Mainline Atlantean religion evokes the pragmatic religious impulse of Antiquity. The gods should be flattered and appropriately worshipped, but most folk don’t expect a close relationship to these inhuman beings. There are exceptions, however. The entry for each god also discusses individual cults of folk who prize a special relationship with that god alone. These cults are given a shady character, such as the Cults of Zeus who may sponsor assassinations. Atlantis is also among the most liberal of cultures, and allows for other cults and sects. Two are mentioned briefly: a monotheistic cult and a diabolic cult.
There is then some discussion of Europan gods, who are very Celtic; the gods of Hellas, who are the more familiar Olympians; Norse gods, who shouldn’t be called “Norse” since there are no Norsemen; and Khemite gods, who are very Egyptian in character. There are also passing references to the Old Gods, such as Ash and Og. In the original game, the Old Gods were presented as primitive, nature-deities, envisioned as divine animals or trees. They were given virtually no description in the old game other than a name and image and there relationship to the Young Gods (such as the Atlantean Pantheon) was unexplained, but I rather liked them for all that. In A2A, it is suggested that the Young Gods overthrew the Old Gods at some distant point in the past; an analog to the Greek story of the War of the Gods against the Titans. I like this very much as it further clarifies the differences between civilized folk and primitives (who still worship the Old Gods). I wish that the description of the individual Old Gods hadn’t been excised, though, since references to Eloah, say, don’t mean much if you have no idea who Eloah is.
The chapter concludes with a discussion of some notable cults, sects, and orders of the Second Age. These include the Howardian Black Mystic Cult of Himvati (cp. People of the Black Circle); the violently-elitist magical fraternity in Marhashi known as the Order of the White Lion; the Assassins, who are just that; the Abara Witch Cult, a nasty group of witches in proto-South America; the pulpy Leopard Men society of Godwana; and the naughty Cult of Sefar, which involves some kind of diabolism and serpent worship and which caused the end of the Hesperian Golden Age and the secession of the Gorgons from the Amazonian queendom. As should be expected, these are described in a few lines with no stats; the idea is to give you some evocative description and leave it alone.
Chapter Eleven: GM’s Only
The final chapter provides discussion on tuning the game to your desired play-style, some rules for environmental encounters, and a sampler of the Bestiary. The discussion on fine-tuning the game is nice (and familiar to those who know Tal 4), including such ideas as halving Hit Points for a Gritty game or doubling them for something more cinematic and a discussion on the game’s scale (concentrate your game on local affairs or make it a globe-trotting epic). Fuller discussion would have been nice, particularly some discussion on Sword & Sorcery vs. High Fantasy, but I can’t fault Morrigan for not spending more pages on this topic and what’s there is more than many games have,
The environmental section discusses travels rates and has a couple of pages on diseases, which nicely brings the gritty-style game to the fore: I haven’t seen too many games with mechanics for gonorrhea. The Bestiary sampler is an unexpected bonus and runs the gamut from normal animals to delicate faery things to demonic gremlins to mantichorae to the nefarious Makara Sea Devils. If you plan on running an S&S game, where the principle antagonists are humans and the occasional thing from beyond, this gives you enough to go on. If you intend to run a D&Desque game with lots and lots of fantasy beasties then this isn’t going to do the trick. But that’s what the Bestiary book is for.
Summary
I like this game. A lot. Atlantis: the Second Age excites my imagination. It is a lovely marriage of old-school ideas and new rules-lite design. Even with the sloppy editing and poor design decisions, I do not hesitate to recommend this game to those looking for a new fantasy game if they like an evocative, lightly sketched, sword & sorcery world or straight-forward mechanics. As I have suggested throughout this review, those who prefer detail-heavy settings, pre-made NPC’s to challenge the characters, meta-plots, and crunchy-rules will not care for the game. But even if the entire package isn’t to taste, I suspect that there are concepts ripe for looting into another setting and system. Those who fondly recall the original Trilogy may have more issues with the new game’s changes in the way that nostalgics tend to (I count myself in that camp); yet the old and new are really so similar that it would be relatively simple to restore whatever cherished element was lost. My brain is churning with stories to tell in this world and I look forward more years spent in the Antediluvian Age.
Review Summary