Half a decade ago, when Crucible was still about, we tasked ourselves with a job to create games settings in one week and bring them back to the fold. The catch was, the group decided what sort of game you were to write. The one that was given to me was subtitled “Roman Empire, No Magic”. I presented it to the group and have been resurrecting material from my old notes for the last few weeks. There’s a lot more written about this but I doubt that it’s mainstream publishable materials. I’ll post a bit more later but if people are interested, comments would be welcome.
Brainstorming: Resurrecting a game idea I had a while back about Earth having developed slightly differently – Saurians evolved into more humanoid shapes and humans and neanderthals had some arrested development. The humans were short, squat, dark haired mutes whereas the neanderthals were literate at the very least and used as slaves and pets.
Introduction
Five days to the Millennium and the Emperor is planning his ascension. Standing upon the balcony and peering down at the plebeian hordes that crowd the streets below. They were preparing his feast no doubt, building the grand throne upon which he would begin his eternal rule. Already he could hear the chanting of the priests as they prepared the way, calling the spirits to attend and the gods to listen. His attendants fussed with his robe, distracting him from his reverie. He narrowed his eye and growled.
Chosen zzLena ilya zzRenu so zzCatha watched her mate, Emperor zzRathu, from her chambers. At the ascension she would be freed from her current duty as his brood female and would be assigned to another. She had provided an egg for zzRathu but she knew it would never hatch. Even now it lay smashed rather than buried in sand and the ashes of former Emperors. zzRathu has offended the Bruot too many times with his words and deeds and though they could not deny him one of the Chosen for a mate, they would all ensure that he would never bear an heir. The ascension was a great honour among the Champions but zzLena knew, as did all the Bruot, that it was a privilege for the Sages and Fools – Emperors who had been so great that they were made eternal or so foolhardy that their removal was deemed necessary.
She barked at her Mur manservant who looked at her with his dark knowing eyes. He fetched her a cup of Celeta – the liquid still warm from the veins of the Celeta (a small rodent) and she drank deep. He walked out of the room, presumably to get more Celeta, and she relaxed letting the warm liquid drip down her throat.
zzRathu watched the Mur enter and smiled his toothy smile. He padded across to his pallet and picked up his ceremonial sash. “It is done” the Mur said. zzRathu strode into the next room and gave a throaty chuckle. zzLena sat, tongue lolling and looked at him with her dead eyes. He ran his hand over her magnificent crest and across her dry raspy tongue. “My egg is safe from your Bruot witches. And my ascension will be on my terms. No flames shall sear this flesh”…
The Mur said nothing. His motives in this were unfathomable to the mighty lizard king who stood before him. Unfathomable to all of the lizards.
