Mythic Underworlds Versus Dungeon Naturalism

 Like most things, this begins with a secondhand book.

Almost every tabletop book I own comes secondhand. This is a result of my cheapness, which is also the motivator behind many of my kitbashes, but also because I have the burrowing instinct of a researcher. Finding a crammed bookshelf in a hidden niche of a microscopic bookstore is the sort of magical experience that can motivate a hundred and more trips beyond the front stoop. What this means in practical terms is that my collection of tabletop books is eclectic to say the least. One of the outcroppings is this book, Dungeons. It dates to the very beginning of the millennium, and contains many of the classic hallmarks of a d20 third-party book. Incredibly niche monsters, questionably-balanced feats, and of course Prestige Classes galore. This is the sort of tabletop book which I would have had with me at all times in the early 2010s as a sort of security blanket, and even now I fondly reread favourite passages on occasion to fall asleep.

It is also an exemplar of Dungeon Naturalism.

Pages upon pages are spent simply describing various ecological and societal processes and listing different types of structure and purpose which could create a dungeon environment. To someone who wants to make a realistic and well-reasoned dungeon this is as good a guide as could be asked for, save for ripping actual dungeon-like environments from history directly. To someone who was largely unaware of the wider philosophies of tabletop gaming, like I was, it was also the only way to design a dungeon.

This led to some problems. Over time I noticed that I tended to write dungeons in a similar manner. Hallways with individual rooms connected to the sides, relatively few secret passages and only in sensible places, and endless similar storerooms. Dungeons were becoming linear, and monsters were being reused or ignored because I had a difficult time imagining how, for example, a ghoul could wander the same halls as 2d6 goblins without one side wiping the other out. I do not think this was so much a failure of dungeon naturalism as a design philosophy as it was one on my end of having a narrow scope. My only examples were the adventure path dungeons in some of my secondhand 4e books and Dungeons itself.

Guillaume70: Tunnel du fort d'Andoy, menant vers la tour d'aération

The dungeon as a mythic underworld presents an alternative that I had barely even considered. I had heard the concept mentioned once or twice, but I only found a complete explanation after stumbling upon a link to this post, originally by Jason Cone. Books and articles I had read until this point had sometimes derided a strange and nonsensical dungeon as a "funhouse", gesturing vaguely at mad wizards and aberrations as the naturalistic but lazy explanation. But the idea that the dungeon is practically another world operating on different rules than our own is both wonderfully fantastical and a solution to some of my problems. I had even been grasping blindly at the idea last year with this post, where I touched the edges of a mythic dungeon in my own way. Even there I was putting naturalistic ideas forward, but in a way that I think meshed with the dungeon itself being mythic.

There is still some reluctance to go fully mythic on my part. For one, I do not like the idea of rules working differently for players and monsters without any explanation at all. This is due to my Dungeon Naturalism roots, but also because I generally prefer systems where the players and NPCs are on the same footing, like Cyberpunk 2020. In Pathfinder 2E one of my mild peeves is that player followers are extremely limited in the equipment they can choose and use, and having a mythic dungeon limit the sight of one side but not the other based only on if they are tied to the players is just not to my taste. A potential solution could be to have the mythic dungeon be equally hostile to inhabitants and intruders. More encounters where both are surprised, more dead bodies found to foreshadow traps and hazards, and more isolated monsters willing to parley all seem like good results of that idea. It should still maintain the mystery and hostility of the dungeon world too, if not even enhance it.

In addition, I have been trying to read more classic dungeons to get an idea of what do to. Caverns of Thracia stands out as one of my favorites so far, and it seems to have pulled off the better parts of Dungeon Naturalism without being stuck in repetition or mundanity like I have. Dungeon Naturalism and Mythic Underworlds are hardly incompatible anyways, which means I should be able to incorporate what I like from either perspective in the future. In all then, a win-win.

So long as I can find the time to actually run a new dungeon, that is.

First Few Fodder Finished

One quarter of an entire regiment appears today!

Sort of, anyways. This unit is one quarter of a regiment, but model-wise it could be anywhere from a twenty-five to eighty percent or so. And that only accounts for one regiment, where I will probably need at least two since there are no Turnip players in the area to my knowledge.

Here is my favorite of the batch. I do not know how I managed to bend the bayonet like that without it breaking, but I am pleased nonetheless. The models are best arranged with the slouching or readied figures in front and the shouldered arm figures in the rear. It helps them rank up without gaps.

I had some difficulty with the knight bodies wearing large surcoats. In the future I think I will either use just the helmet or refrain from using these bodies as the result is too full-bodied for a fodder in my opinion.

I have yet to apply mud to the new batch as I am waiting on more square bases in the post. I will need to do so on their backs as the paint has blended together into a dull mass, and in the future I should apply less technical paint to that area if possible. Perhaps watering it down could help there.

With regards to painting, I have stuck with my original method by and large. Assembly for the first figure followed the guide in the Swollen Maglette. Assembly for the second followed the first, and so on and so forth. Hopefully this will lead to mutation as I copy copies of copies.

The basecoat was Doombull Brown for the pants, Black Templar for the ammunition pouch and shoes, XV-88 for the shoe covers, pouches, straps, and cufflinks. Zandri Dust was used for the bedroll and musket strap, but I changed it to XV-88 for the strap in future figures. Vallejo Scarlet was used for the red portions and The Fang for the blue. Dryad Bark was used on the tufts, wood, and backpack items, Rakarth Flesh was used on the hands. Leadbelcher was used for the metal and AK Interactive AK-2282 Aircraft Series Acrylic Paint - PC10 Late was used for the mush. It is a very strange shade and requires extreme shaking.

For the wash, I tried using the opposite of each colour to dull it down. Except red, which I wanted to stand out by using Carroburg Crimson. XV-88 and Zandri Dust were done in Biel-Tan Green, but in future figures I would reduce the weight used on the Zandri. Leadbelcher and Dryad Bark were done in the new quick-flow Nuln Oil since there was going to be extra weathering on them anyway. Doombull and Rakarth were done in Drakhof Nightshade and The Fang was done in Seraphim Sepia. Everything was then heavily washed in Army Painter Strong Tone, which left the figure glossy and wet looking.

To remove the glossiness the figure was hit with a matte varnish. Originally I did this several times, but in future figures I only did this once after the Strong Tone wash and once after the pigment effects were applied. It is important to not varnish after applying mud last since the mud effect is supposed to look wet.

After varnishing apply Typhus Corrosion over all. I have done this too heavily on many of the figures but the idea stands. After that, lightly apply AK Light Rust pigment onto the metal, wet it, then wipe it off with a spare brush and fingers. Make sure to get any lingering pockets of pigment. At this point also drybrush or pick out the tips of the tuft in Vallejo Scarlet.

Varnish again and then glue the figure to the base and apply Vallejo Russian Mud, the variety of it that comes in the big pots. Mud goes on the shoes, pant cuffs, and the back. I varnished after applying mud on this figure which is why it looks less wet than it could.

This recipe might seem on the outset more complicated than normal, but the trick is a lack of brush control. Many of the washes target large areas or the entire figure and a lot of mistakes are covered up by weathering effects so painting can be fast and relatively messy. Only the rust takes any focus and even then not too much.

Chaff are next, or Brutes perhaps.

Knights and Turnips

 One knight, one Frenchman.

I hope that I have not misled any readers with my occasional references to roots and kitbashing. Really, honest, I just bought kits of medieval and Napoleonic figures to paint two and then call it a day.

There are some doubts about this fellow. His gauntlets, for one, look more glove-like on the palm than metallic, but I trusted my gut during painting and left them shiny. His arms are also posed oddly, mostly due to an unsureness of how to approach the positioning of the shoulder-shields. In the end it makes him more friendly looking than combative, which is perfectly fine to me. Hello to you too, Sir Knight.

The highlights were done in two ways, taking inspiration from Just Add Water's article on painting medievals. This meant a drybrush for the mail, and a layering for the plate. I used Leadbelcher, then Ironbreaker, then Runefang Steel. This was all then cleaned up with an overall wash of extremely-thinned Black Templar and some interior cleanup with the new and inferior Nuln Oil formula, which seems to do very little despite being advertised as going into cracks better. I quite like how the effect came out on the forward leg, and if I do more figures like this I will definitely repeat it. I may, however, need a smaller drybrush to handle mail. The one I used for some of the Afghan tribesmen is too large to get into the small mail in-between the arm plating.

As for the gold and leather, I do not remember my exact recipe. They were done in the traditional manner, with blacklining on the leather., I think the more exaggerated effect of blacklining, which works great on figures like the British Redcoats and the Frenchman, does less well against a base of metal. To avoid dealing with flocking I repurposed an Afghanistan base, imagine it as Malta or Anatolia instead, though I am unsure how far South this style of plate could have been seen. I could have stood to practice some weathering on this shiny metal, but I decided it would be easier to do so on the next figures.

Hang on a moment, next figures?

Perhaps some mild lies have been propagated across the internet. Really, it is business as usual.

Here is the first Turnip28 fodder, of hopefully many. I am not going to post a painting recipe yet, as I am still experimenting, but I will say that assembly was inspired by the guide in the Swollen Maglette magazine. I only followed it for the first figure, but there were a few pieces of advice which I would have been slow to pick up on my own if ever. Consider this fellow a tutorial level, after which I take the training wheels off and let the twisted creativity flow.

I remember reading in an interview that the game was inspired by a desire to play with Napoleonic figures without having to paint the things. Having done so myself, I wholeheartedly agree with the notion. This figure took me two days of about an hour and a half each day, which while slow is leagues better than the full week required of the Frenchman. And the Frenchman required hours of research, and a grounding in terminology! All this one required was for me to print out the Maglette's tutorial section and look up a colour wheel. The wheel, in a preview of my technique, was used to dull down the figure in an initial wash by washing each colour individually with its opposite. I think it worked really quite well, and I am proud of having worked it out.

So proud, in fact, that I went out and made another. In even faster time too! This one I innovated on in what I think is a bit of a failed experiment. Somehow, in my efforts to brighten the figure a little, I have made it even darker. Still, is hardly contrasts overmuch with the other one. Being able to mess around with technique and recipie in media res is liberating compared to the Colonials project, where I feel obligated to paint each figure to roughly the same standard to keep a sense of cohesion. It seems the overall theme of making Turnip28 figures is a liberation from previous miniature shackles. I might even try for an oil wash at some point!

The weaselly little pose of this figure is very amusing to me. I have mentioned this before, but I find awful figures and things charming. Not awful like an atrocity, mind, but awful like a cave-dwelling mutant with a club or a pile of scrap that beeps and trundles around. This is part of why I am pursuing a Turnip28 army instead of one for Trench Crusade, which leans a little too self-serious for my personal tastes. Turnips are expected to slip face first into the mud with slide-whistle effects, and I admire that design philosophy.

As is inevitable, I had already been theorizing as to the background of my force well before putting paint to plastic. In this case, I think my force will be led by a barrel. Not just any barrel, but a barrel containing the pickling body of a tactical genius! It worked for Horatio Nelson after all, until someone drank him. The Toffs of Cist might consider it a sort of immortality, even if your flunkies can only interpret your orders through knocking and burbling. And there is always the risk of getting mistaken for another barrel. It is entirely possible my regiment has been following imaginary orders coming from a cask of fossilized biscuits for years now. I would be surprised if someone else has not already done this concept, but I hope nonetheless to put a personalized enough spin on it.

First, however, Fodder. Lots of them. Ten more are already curing as I type this, being easy to assemble when you only have to care about the largest of mold lines.

To finish off, enjoy size comparisons between the horrid rootmen and their progenitors. In the next Turnip post I might discuss more about how their forefathers influence their own apperance.

They have no idea what to make of each other.

Fallout 40

 Four times Ten is Forty. That is the joke.

Sometimes a game worms its way very deeply into an individual. Sometimes only part of a game does that. Fallout Four is that game, and settlement building is that part. 

This post was supposed to come out on the actual anniversary of Fallout Four. Unfortunately, Mister Todd Howard has done it again, and I spent a good part of the week fiddling with the game to get it working. This was made more difficult by the fact that until 2020 I played Fallout Four primarily on the Xbox, which is not an environment conducive to fixing game issues. When I finally got my favorite character up and running I found the game in a much-reduced state. For one, all of my mods are gone. This leaves gaps in my settlements, and other strange artifacts which will probably show up to the keen eye. Nonetheless, I have what I came for.

I have alluded to Fallout Four in the past once or twice. I know for a fact I have mentioned norespawns as an inspiration before. His builds, and Ranger Dave's legendary settlement tours, are as much a part of my current wargaming exploits as any of the blogs I read. While something like Minecraft gives the player freedom, I can find it to be very overwhelming. Especially with chisel mods. I know players who are very keen on precisely chiseling every shape to perfection, getting everything perfect down to an impossible level. That is beyond my interest. Model conversions and Fallout settlement building are more my speed. The components all exist, the trick is to use them in novel ways.

The settlement pictured here, bereft of modded decorations, is not the most stunning example of that idea. This building is one of the most dynamic in the settlement, but I have an inkling suspicion it was built off of a tutorial. I have made some more impressive settlements, but they exist in the world of Fallout 76, or else in a modded F04 game on an old laptop somewhere. I was able to get the Xbox save working, I doubt the same would be true of the PC saves. That said, there is a more important reason I came back to this settlement in particular.

Eleven days, Three Hours, Forty-One minutes. That works out to 265.683 hours. This is my most played save, but it is only one of many. I would easily guess at least 500 hours in Fallout Four across the PC and Xbox. The only hobbies I have spent more time on, by an admittedly gargantuan margin, are Piratecraft and Veruzia, miniature painting, and maybe Space Station 13. 

There is nostalgia, but also some resentment to this. Why, from 2016 to 2017, did I put eleven days of my life into this one save? I remember waking up early to build walls around the Red Rocket station, I remember getting through podcasts and playthroughs as I fiddled with doors, I even remember putting time into the Creation Kit tool to learn mapmaking for the game. Part of me wishes I had explored the real world, met new people, and spent more time with those who are no longer with me. But the truth of the matter is that not every moment can be spent living life to the fullest. I do not think I really missed out on any opportunities by playing Fallout Four, mostly I think I just miss the freedom to spend a day in the Commonwealth. Even now my infrequent posting schedule is as much a result of my difficult physical schedule as any laziness, as unfortunate as that may be. If getting this save working again has taught me anything though, it is that you can never truly go back to how things were.

Enough pretention, I am writing about a questionable RPG from 2015 after all. What was I trying to do, specifically, with this settlement? My belief is that I was trying to create a maze. Twisting urban spaces are fascinating and delightful to me, especially those intertwined with a sort of sci-fi element. The Dishonored games and the Metro 2033 series are the only video games I regularly replay, and a lot of that stems precisely from the enjoyment of strange twisting realms. 40k, too, captures this with its layered hive cities and labyrinthine spaceships. Even in the relatively small space of The Castle I have tried to capture some of that essence. These buildings are not simply large-open spaces, each is subdivided into separate inaccessible spaces, making navigation intentionally confusing. The streets too are intended to break up straight lines as much as I was able, and to stay narrow with courtyards as the only open areas. I think that I could probably do better nowadays, more dead-end roads for example, but I still very much like the intention and design.

While the modded walls which formed a mighty gate are gone, the modded boat which formed part of the outer curtain inexplicably remains. Walls, especially those which loom like The Castle's, are a great mood setter. Buildings with an overhang like this guardhouse are another. Eventually I hope to do something similar with a Mordheim-type layout, but that will have to wait for a little while longer at least.

I remember this building as always having been in shadow. I do not know if that was really the case or not, but that is how it appeared today. I think it is definitely a standout of the settlement with its non-rectangular shape and sprawling edges. Though not pictured, there is a small garden between the outer wall and the building, which is exactly the sort of hidden little crevice I love to see in game worlds and real life. Niches, alcoves, alleys and courtyards are all perfect spaces in their smallness and private nature.

The outer curtain, being a defensive area, does not have buildings other than the guardhouse. But it does have the ship which forms part of the wall and the center of a maintenance area. That sort of post-apocalyptic idiosyncrasy is one of the really fun parts of the genera and definitely a fundamental part of the Fallout look. Boats can be walls, cars can be gates, and Vaults can be dungeons. That last one might deserve a post of its own with the tabletop connections.

I do not see myself playing Fallout Four for some time yet, and if I do it will definitely be the excellent Fallout London mod released last year. Still, I may try to dig up one of my 76 settlement builds, or maybe another from this save game. Perhaps I will buy one of the expensive Fallout wargaming kits to tie things together, though likely not. I will leave off on the theme of winding cities with an item description from Fallen London, a game which norespawns coincidentally introduced me to through Sunless Seas:

Secluded Address

The labyrinths of London have a thousand hidden corners. You have uncovered one of value.

It is wonderfully evocative.