Posted April 12, 2021 by Alessandro Piroddi
#Fantasy #fantasy-world #PbtA #roleplay #unplayablegames
After a design comparison between Fantasy World and Dungeon World and an in depth analysis of the Priest class, here comes what the community asked for with votes and messages across multiple groups: a long hard look at the Occultist class. This article will be a bit more technical, going deeper into the come mechanics behind this class, in addition to the conceptual goals that drove its design.
What I wanted to achieve with this Class was to “make magic wondrous again”.
I wanted the practice of magic in Fantasy World to have a few specific qualities:
My main references for these qualities come from the feeling and look common to most fantasy movies from the 80s, especially titles such as Willow (1988), the two Conan movies (1982 / 1984) and Excalibur (1981). In these movies the “wizards” always had an aura of wisdom and mystery, rather than power; they performed magic in ritualistic and low-key ways, rather than flamboyant spell-tossing; they used magic sporadingly and with reverence, rather than often and offhandedly.
More modern sources of inspiration were the first couple of books in The Dresden Files series, where Harry performs a lot of little quirky rituals full of mundane items that take on an occult meaning, leaving brute-force invokation for the final beats of the story. The same could be said for the 1st and 2nd edition of the ttrpg Unknown Armies, especially the rules on thaumaturgical rituals, although the whole concept of adept magic (drawing magical power out of self-imposed meaning and limitations) always resonated with me.
Another model for me was how (some) OSR game systems handled magic as something useful but limited, something the Player was supposed to be clever about. Free from lengthy lists of available spells, each with a powerful and grandiose effect, the low-level OSR wizard has to get creative in order to leverage the magical tools they are granted.
This vague and confused ball of ideas and feelings was further defined by what I was pretty certain that I wanted to avoid...
Vancian spell-slots were out of question. I did not want to deal with pre-packaged lists of spells. And I definitely wanted to avoid magic feeling like an exercise in resource-management. These considerations automatically excluded most magic-point systems too. This kind of system is also often intimidating for many Players, as they perceive it as too complex, full of notions that need to be known before one can play a magical character: lists and rules and modifiers and levels and progression etc. It’s a well established stereotype that the Players of a wizard character tend to be the ones with a more “tinkering” nature.
But I was also wary of how many freeform systems worked, turning magic into a universal catch-all solution. This poses a paradoxical double problem. For some Players freeform magic comes too easy, becoming both trivial and overpowered. Mechanically it offers a convenient way to bypass most other game rules. Fictionally it flattens the vast majority of problematic and challenging situations, with the added risk of stealing protagonism from other characters: why bother with anything if the wizard can simply magick it away?
For other Players freeform magic is too hard, being this vague thing meant for “more creative” people; it is utter nonsense, but many Players get stuck in front of a blank sheet and end up resenting the constant stress and effort of doing something out of their comfort zone.
There exist some egregious examples of hybrid magical systems that try to be both freeform and pre-packaged. I ended up thinking of them as high-crunch because they rely on a set of pre-made and well articulated options and tools that the Player is supposed to mix and match on the fly to concoct their magical effects. Ars Magica here is the most famous example.
Problem is, it kind of shares the negative elements of both pre-packaged and freeform magical systems: it requires time and effort to know the crunch needed to make magic work, and then it also requires the improvisational creativity needed to come up with freeform effects. It’s perfect for a game solely focused on magic use, but I felt it was too demanding and cumbersome for FW.
The solution I came up with is arguably nothing particularly original, but it does what I need it to do, and that’s what matters the most. One could think of it as a low-crunch hybrid focused on quirky fictional details. But let’s just take a look at the actual move and then dissect it.
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You hold secret lore that allows you to manipulate reality >>>
<<< pick the source of your magic:
Tell the World who taught you, and why you admire them, and why you resent them. _ _ _
This first part established the overall style and core concept of the Occultist’s magic. Like most other elements in FW it is simply a root idea, an initial seed the Player can look at for inspiration and guidance. The three options provided represent what in other games are often separate classes, and that to me always seemed like the same exact thing with a superficial reskin to give the impression of variety. They are also broad enough to allow any Player freedom of expression, while still offering suggestions they can just use as is.
It also establishes the idea that magic can be learned and taught, that such knowledge is a secret, and that there is someone out there you have conflicting feelings for. These elements help the Occultist start off as a dramatic character with some depth, rather than just defining their job skills.
The second part of the move then follows like this...
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When you perform a lesser act of magic >>>
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Out of the box the Occultist performs lesser magic. The rules go more into detail about what that means, but this choice of words immediately helps set a specific kind of expectation.
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<<< tell the World what the intent of your magic is and check together its feasibility against the limits of Lesser magic.
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Instead of asking the Player to come up with spells and magical effects, the rules ask them to express the magic’s function. Focus on the practical aspect of it, what do you want to achieve? What do you need magic for? What problem do you need solving? This does not yet have to be a fictional description, as the Player only needs to communicate their intent to the World. Nice and easy.
Once the intent is clear, then we take a look at a small table defining the limits of Lesser magic.
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Anything else is the purview of Major magic.
When in doubt, it is Lesser magic unless someone invokes the One Golden Rule.
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This transitions the conversation between World and Occultist from an out-fiction intent towards an in-fiction description focused on what could logically make sense given the listed limitations. It moves away from the blank page of “what to do” onto the more familiar ground of “how to do it”. And because it’s a conversation rather than a unilateral act of creation, it’s way less scary and fatiguing than what most purely freeform systems demand.
The topic itself is relatively narrow and easier to handle: is your intent Lesser magic or Major magic? Nothing else needs to be established here... although the Player will, more often than not, be lured into tinkering with the possibilities of a different intent, a different description, and how they would fare against the limitations of Lesser magic. In a sense it’s a trap, a honeypot meant to gently train Players and World to understand what they reciprocally consider sensible and reasonable.
That said, in case of doubt the advantage is given to the Player. This shifts the conversation from a very classic and problematic “No, unless you convince me” to a much healthier and interesting “Yes, unless I really have a problem with it”.
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Magic is wild and untamed, you always roll at a Disadvantage.
You can exert a modicum of control by working COMPONENTS into your magic; select which ones you want and answer to their questions:
Now roll+COMPONENTS.
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We finally get to the mechanical engine of the move.
The first visible element is the fact that working magic is always at a Disadvantage. This tends to earn some negative reactions by people used to more traditional systems because they see it as an almost punitive way to “balance” magic: it’s powerful so it must be difficult, which makes sense to them, but expressing it with a constant penalty feels bad. This... this is all just wrong :)
First of all, this move is never about IF magic works.
Looking at the possible outcomes, one should see how ALL results start by stating that “you work your magic”; there is no outcome where your magic does not work! The move roll is purely a test to measure the extent of control and finess. This alone frames the move and its modifiers in a completely different light.
Secondly, no matter what I just stated, knowing that you start all magic at Disadvantage still feels like a precarious predicament. You can’t fail the casting, but what else might happen? This uncertainty fuels both a sense of danger connected to the use of magic, and a sense of urgency to regain as much control as possible.
This is where the next bit of the move kicks in: the components.
Instead of forcing the Player to do anything, the move invites: you can do nothing and succeed but who knows what else will happen, or you can describe something more and maybe get a cleaner result. Instead of confronting the Player with a blank sheet, the move guides: you have exactly these three options, you can’t go wrong.
Instead of feeding pre-packaged fiction to the Player, the move supports creativity: you already have a style/source/theme, you already have an intent and possibly more info on how this enchantment should work fictionally, now just add it all up to describe just one detail, or two, or three.
The use of components also affects the fictional positioning of the Occultist through a series of TAGs and descriptors, turning their use into a potentially meaningful choice.
Plus, there are many ways in which the Occultist might accrue enough Advantage to offset or even subvert the initial position of Disadvantage. This further encourages creativity, teamwork, and the expenditure of otherwise hoarded resources such as Expedience and Supplies.
All of this amounts to something that expert and shrewd Players can use as a perfect springboard, while containing their exuberance within fruitful confines that are positive for the whole table. And at the same time less experienced and more hesitant Players will have the support they need to find their own voice, while learning that it doesn’t take much to play a cool character wielding cool magics.
Now that we have thoroughly unpacked the core move of the Occultist, the rest really falls into place by itself, as it simply adds a specific spin to the base concept, or expands it somehow.
Darkness Within takes the idea of magical taint and goes away with it, expanding how much an Occultist can be tainted, what it means to be tainted and how it can empower them... for a price. As usual the price is not about game balance, but dramatic exploration, as it messes with the character’s Issue and inflicts TAGs that can be socially problematic.
Pushing Against the Universe and Sacrifice both offer ways to empower Lesser magic at the cost of personal consequences. These add the tiniest bit of complexity to the base magical system, but only after the PC has already grown, and only if the Player chooses to pick these specific moves.
Other moves introduce classic tropes, such as granting the Occultist a magically bonded Familiar creature, or allowing them to exert social authority thanks to their reputation and their Mark of Power, or finding places of great power by tracing the Earth’s Veins.
Magical items are also a commonplace element of many “wizard” archetypes that can be explored through the Talismonger move (to produce them) and the Tinkerer move (to study and use them).
Finally, the Ritual move opens up the door of Major magical workings. This is very similar to it’s Dungeon World counterpart, which was in itself very similar to the original Savvyhead move from Apocalypse World.
All in all the Occultist ends up being much more than the wise trickster from Willow or the spiritual Akiro from Conan, but it shares enough flavour with them that the final result is still strongly reminiscent of them: knowledgeable, quirky, highly stylised. Furthermore, the mechanical workings of magic make its practice and use an exciting predicament, always unstable but promising, limited in the fruitfully creative ways that foster Player expression and imagination.