Politics as Usual

On September 9, in the year 1087, William the Bastard, known for twenty-one years as the Conqueror, was at Rouen after falling ill during a siege at Mantes. Orderic Vitalis writes:

At length, on Tuesday, the fifth of the ides of September, the king waking just when the sun was beginning to shed his rays on the earth, heard the sound of the great bell of the cathedral of Rouen. On his inquiring what it meant, his attendants replied: "My Lord, the bell is tolling for primes in the church of St. Mary." Then the king, raising his eyes to heaven with deep devotion, and lifting up his hands said: "I commend myself to Mary, the holy mother of God, my heavenly mistress, that by her blessed intercession I may be reconciled to her well-beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ." Having said this he instantly expired. 

The physicians and others who were present, who had watched the king all knight while he slept, his repose neither broken by cries or groans, seeing him now expire so suddenly and unexpectedly, where much astonished, and became as men who had lost their wits. Notwithstanding, the wealthiest of them mounted their horses and departed in haste to secure their property. The inferior attendants, observing that their masters had disappeared, laid hands on the arms, the plate, the robes, the linen, and all the royal furniture, and leaving the corpse almost naked on the floor of the house, hastened away.

Medieval politics are endlessly interesting. We've seen an aping of that in the extremely popular Song of Ice and Fire series (even if they're simplified and not truly medieval). What about medieval politics draws people, particularly those interested in fantasy, to them over and over again? It may have its origins in the intensely personal character of the medieval polity.

The state was often held together by bonds of personal loyalty. Part of understanding medieval politics is understanding the relationships of its players. Family was important, obviously, since brothers and sisters could be used to form powerful alliances with the church, with other families, etc. The same goes for children.

How can this be used in fantasy writing or gameplay? The first and foremost thing I would recommend is the creation of the actual characters who play a major part in any politics. Understanding their individual motivations, much more so than early pre-modern or modern politics, will make the objectives of their "factions" much clearer.

Indeed, drawing a flow-chart like document that shows the relationships of the major figures to each other can assist in understanding why certain people behave in certain ways in the interior of a kingdom. The corollary to that, of course, is to understanding the intrafamilial dynamic of each major noble house. It may very well be possible for a trio of brothers to despise one another, and for that to cause major political turmoil and upset (for example, William Rufus, Henry, and their older and nicer brother Robert).

Treating a political melange as a whole system heuristic will give you a much firmer understanding of how any one shift may affect the network. I've found this useful when mapping out the complicated routes of elvish politics in the 10th Age. Of course, this all depends on your players. Some folks don't want complex politics interfering with their gaming. I think it adds an interesting shade of realism to know that whenever a PC completes an adventure someone is benefitting from it somehow. And when you know how that person is benefitting, you can better see how the PC's actions affect the dynamic world.

In some ways, this is a plea to make fantasy worlds as interesting, complicated, and realistic as The Wire.

The Political Machine

Adventurers often get themselves into political trouble, at least in my games. While the 2e DM asks who would be irritated if the adventurers started hiring knights and other retainers out from under local lords, it doesn't ask who would be irritated if a group of sellswords swooped in and started performing tasks for money. In most fantasy worlds, people can agree on what they want. If a kingdom is beset by a number of ills, there are usually not a number of stances about how to deal with them, or whether or not they are ills at all. That's not the case in the 10th Age which can make everything that much more complicated. It sometimes drives my players to distraction, but I think serves to make a fuller game.

In practical terms, it often means a LOT more work for me. I need to figure out the major factions in each realm, determine who belongs to them, and mark down the most important figures in each. This means that every time a new party starts, I must already have begun to work on the political structure surrounding them. While they usually do not see it at first, it remains suspended there, like an invisible semantic web, and their actions shift and move it. Not every faction thinks the same things are good or right for the kingdom, nor does every member within a faction have the exact same opinion. Kingdoms are not monoliths of power, they are intricate political machines with hundreds or thousands of moving parts.

Can I model all of this? Probably, if I was insane or very dedicated. Do I? Usually not. I try to model the top level of the machine first of all: the high nobles, the great councillors, the major temples. It determine what they want collectively, what kinds of philosophies of governance they hold, and who they like or dislike. That serves as a good background for me to delve into an individual region. Now, local barons and magistrates usually do not form factions of their own (they may) but usually attach to the faction of a larger party. This means I can say that this here little baron and that one are attached to this or that major faction. It's very easy in lands were blood-relations make alliances, since all I have to know then is what house they owe their bloodline to.

Now, I usually also add mitigating factors for smaller players. Such as, "Supports the Aderno family but is not active in politics," or "Supports the Emperor nominally, but believes that the court is highly corrupt." This allows them wiggle-room to be convinced, cajoled, manipulated, or allied with against their own supposed interests... if the PCs are clever enough to discover exactly how to do it.

The effect this has on the game is one that builds up over time. While almost no one could object to adventurers clearing out, say, a basement full of necromantic horrors in the capital, they might begin to suspect that the adventurers are acting on the orders of some faction they don't like. Or perhaps they begin to think that the adventurers are forming their own political faction, which is just as bad. Or mayhaps they don't care, but the adventurers actions are having an effect on their own plans—for example, defending the status quo almost always upsets the people who hate the king (see Someone Always Hates the King).

There are no politically neutral actions in a machine of this complexity. Everything has effects, even if they are not immediately seen. The effects lead to fame, glory, alliances, but also foes, assassination attempts, and permanent enemies. Depending on what exactly the party does, these may come earlier or later in their level-arc. It's possible for a 1st or 2nd level party to aggravate a high noble to the point where he dispatches murderswords to come and kill them in their sleep. Likewise, it's possible for that same party not to aggravate anyone for 6-9 levels. Or perhaps to become so famous in their 1-2nd levels that they begin to attract followers and hirelings of their own accord early.

The important part isn't how exactly they interact with the machine, it's that this level of play exists at all. This invisible, sticky web of plots and politics may be unseen, but to remove it entirely is to remove a whole level of complexity from the game. And you now I'm almost always for more complexity, particularly when it doesn't involve math.

"Social Levels"

Vagr Blackstone, the frontman for the Temple of the Shadow Triad, is dead. He was murdered by the Hounds the other night in one of those plans that broke down the instant an enemy touched it. With him, now dead, was Braggi Biletooth, the Valelan (secretly a skinchanger) who organized and deployed most of the cities' muscle in its lower circles. This is both a good thing and a bad thing for Tyrma—on the one hand, the Temple of the Triad has been at least temporarily weakened now that its spokesman to the smuggling community is dead. The same goes for anyone who employed Braggi to give them thugs and elvish enforcers: he's gone, and it will be a while before anyone steps in to take his place.

Of course, it could mean bad things too. All those poor elves with no other means of income who have been maimed on long sea voyages or were called in up for the militia to fight goblins and now have no homes, those guys? They're the thugs Braggi usually hires now. They're all free agents now. Confusion will rule the Tyrman underworld for a while as things get sorted out. Keir has already made some plans to take advantage of this; after all, what better time to strike at the diseased underbelly of the elvish capital than while it is mired in internal strife? This is what Cain (and the US Army) would refer to as Violence of Action, though Keir describes it as "striking the iron while it is hot."

But I want to talk about something else that resulted from this combat. A comment made by Frank afterwards is the heart of this discussion. He said to me, "I feel like I've gained a level." Not a physical level wherein you get a discreet allotment of hp and THAC0 adjustment, but a social level wherein the party itself has become a much more powerful entity in local politics. This is one of the great things about D&D after level 3.

Other games codify this social standing. It can be easier to have a handy number. L5R does it with Honor, Feudal Anarchy has a social rank number, and I believe Hârn does it too. D&D does not, leaving the power of your social advantage to remain unquantified before your eyes. This is, of course, more like life; can you trust your new allies? Just how strong is your new position? But it nevertheless serves an immensely important role in the game.

Going up in "social levels" means that you are more integrated into your surroundings. It means you have a network of allies, enemies, contacts, and those potential-contacts that are now closed to you because of your choices. The social bonds begin to wrap around your characters and it is deathly hard to shake those off without just abandoning the whole location. You are known. On the most basic level, this means adventures can start coming to you rather than you going to them. People will seek you out to hire—and to kill.

This is the beginning of the big boy stage where you aren't quite a landowner or lawmaker, but you certainly aren't walking uphill both ways to the dungeon with no shoes or hose and a 500 lb. backpack. You're a wizard now, Harry, and people are going to start treating you like one. Buckle on your sword but remember that you may be used by forces you don't understand or know yet. Keep a weather eye out and start cultivating a mythos about yourself—when people think you're unkillable, it makes them less likely to try.

Get ready for the ride of your life, you poor sorry fool, for now you are enmeshed in the world of the nobleman and they have no mercy or scruples when it comes to what they want. This is the middle game.

Someone Always Hates the King

No land is monolithic. No political party is all-encompassing. Nowhere is perfectly, 100% stable. In other words: someone always hates the king. There are a thousand reasons that someone might hate the king. To name just a few: he's unjust, he promulgated a law which injured someone's standing (or pride), he's increased the taxes, he's decreased the taxes, etc. ad infinitum.

This means there is always maneuvering going on. No kingdom is ever static and safe, which is great news for you. Whether it's a powerful underlord of crime, dangerous nobility, foreign interests (usually coupled with one of the previous two), unstable mercenaries, outlaws and rebels, or whatever you can think of, someone always hates the king.

No rule is secure, which means adventurers always have work to do. Putting down a dissenting group will just result in creating another, people who now despise the adventurers for their meddling. This is because adventuring is always a political act; it is, above all things, an expression of power. He who has the power to hire adventurers has the power to challenge (or reinforce) the state. Adventurers are a third wheel, an extra gear, a way to solve problems without using normal channels. After all, you can always deny you hired them.

If a nobleman sends his knights to attack the king's procession, someone is bound to recognize them. Even if they're masked and hooded, the word will get out that he raised them from their farms, armed them, and sent them out. Besides which, just let one be captured and the whole house of cards (tiles, in Arunia :V) will come crashing down around their ears.

However, if that same nobleman hires adventurers in secret, demands their discretion as to their paymaster, no one would ever be the wiser unless they were caught and possibly tortured. Of course, the problem with adventurers is that they are generally essentially mercenary, so whoever has the deepest purse tends to control them.

Political instability is always good for adventuring, though it may be bad for individual adventurers (particularly if they are themselves devoted to one side of the cause or the other). The fact that someone always hates the king is good for business, because you can always get work with the people who hate him or with the king himself, making sure those people don't topple his kingdom.