When a Wizard Nearly Became a KNIGHT
Once the galleon dropped the anchor in Puerto da Gaula, I made straightway for the nearest bookshop. If I was to embark upon calling myself as a wizard in these lands, I ought not merely to seize upon their knowledge, but to be baptised within it; and it is well known among our guild that there is no greater font than the rivers of ink which lie dry upon leaves wrested from the trees, there to tell the tales for which our ears are not yet, I fear, properly attuned. Such a baptism demands a disposition greater than that of the children of our kin are cast, against its own will, into the waters as they are cast into this world, and greater still than that of the grown brethren who enters a rite yet unstripped of his daily lifeâneither in the tongue they speak, nor in thought they elaborate, nor in their work they profess.
The work into which I was about to plunge lay ill at ease, alone among sundry wretched, unstitched spines, in one of the many bookshops that had gathered in those quarters for reasons quite beyond my ken. The book was written in the very same tongue as that of my own ramblings, though with an intonation more proper to Elder Albion, and its author, Mark Beren, hailed from the lands of the emus and the Great Red Monolith of the Olgas.
I was captivated by the complicit gaze of a young armoured lady riding a white horse, turning back to look over her shoulder while holding a banner. Was she calling me to be her faithful squire? Was it the look of an equal between brothers-in-arms? The lady wore an ornate blue armour, a crested helmet with a red plume, and a flowing pale cloak. Were my own habits akin to hers? I remember it not in the least. Would I have wished them to be so? I should scarcely have said otherwise. Behind the Lady, a landscape of stone arches lay waiting. Upon the crown of the tome I remember a six-letters title: âKNIGHTâ, and at the bottom, a gentle invitation: âWill you ride into legend?â
I must beg pardon for my impertinent words, butâHell, yes! That day, Iâwho until then had always been a wizardâvery nearly took upon myself the habits of a KNIGHT.
My sword is sworn to valour. My shield defends the weak. My word speaks only truth. My wrath lays low the widcked. I fear no evil but disgrace.
Your own Avalon.
I must set these words down here before I started to cast more, for KNIGHT it is not a solitary gameâthough it does indeed the rules to play it alone, which I have yet to peruse. I find much pleasure in the manner of its writing; it makes use of a kind of Middle English, with such words as thyself, and adjectives using "-ou" as I am fond of it. The manual itself appears contrived so that one may set to play with little delay, and only thereafter consult certain procedures as need arisesâsuch as the Fief Phase, or the passing from one age into another.
Another matter that struck me as most curious is that, despite resting upon a certain historical frame drawn from the Arthurian legends, the text urges the reader to âCreate thy own version of the realm of Avalon.â In this it provides a most serviceable guide to the fashioning of a kingdom: places of note, counties, and names that shall appear in one guise or another, regardless of the precise shape or geography one grants to the realm of Avalon.
The game.
It is a game wherein one takes upon oneself the role of knights in pursuit of glory, through heroic deeds in a mythic world. Yet that world differs somewhat from the English Arthurian cycle, wherein King Arthur and his court stand in defense of the fate of Camelot. Instead, KNIGHT takes up the thread of the Welsh Arthurian tradition, dwelling more upon the mythological aspects of that lore, and upon figures such as Merlin, as well as writings such as the Mabinogionâwhich gather prose traditions stretching from the Iron Age unto the High Middle Ages.
Having made this plain, the manual proceeds to set forth what it means to be a Knight or Lady, and passes forthwith to the creation of a character. There one chooses a name, a heraldic shield, and a mastery; one distributes the scores (8, 10, 12) among three attributes. Then, one names the knightâs fief; and one determines their outward aspectâeyes, hair, and bearing. One also names a patron saint, two members of the knightâs family (each with a trait), and receives a base equipment which is further shaped by answering certain questions.
Thereafter follows the fashioning of a particular realm of Avalon. It may well be that among learned folk there exists a map that cleaves closely to the descriptions of that realm. Yet the game seeks no such historicity. Rather, the players take turns in drawing their own kingdomâits fiefs, rivers, lakes, mountains, islands, and seas. What renders this map singular is that, though it be wholly your own, it must nevertheless include certain names: Avon, Camelin, Rhen, Camelyn, Lyriu, Strathclyde, Ceredyn, Astolat, Bycourt the Traitor, the Countess Ynefyn, or the Castle of Caemlyn, just for naming a few. This may at first seem a contradiction; yet the remainder of the manual makes no pretense of strict fidelity to the historical records known today, but rather provides a handful of names from which the game may take its beginning.
Then make their appearance fifteen pages of light rules, for a game conceived in three phases: the Quest (the adventure itself), the Fief (the phase wherein the knights and ladies withdraw and return to their lands to restâor to contend with intrigues), and Free Play, which is woven betwixt the other two.
The manner of rolling for overcome tasks appeared to me as one of the most simple. One casts a 1d20 and must score lower than the Attribute. Whether one succeeds or fails, a further die of effect is cast, which shows how far the action advances. This die ranges from 1d4 (the character came but barely prepared) to 1d12 (the character came well prepared, with a fitting trait, proper equipment, the blessing of their patron saint, a magical object, and so forth). No rolls are made for those fields of knowledge the knight does not possess; to master them, the character must instead actively seek to learn them within the course of play.
Magic, Glory, and Fiefs.
Magic is presented as something demoralisingâhow rude, Mark!âunbecoming of knights, perilous beyond measure, and requiring weeks of ritual preparationâwell, that is partially true, but practical wizardry science has improved the casting times lately. It also treats, in scarcely more than a page, of objects imbued with some enchantment, as well as of the blessings and curses bestowed by patron saints.
Glory is of the utmost consequence, for while fame and renown are most difficult to win, they are all too easily lost.
The Fief Phase foresees that knights shall take a hand in the affairs of their landsâbe they of a familial or personal natureâas well as other matters that may call for resolution by their squires or vassals.
It is expected that after ten quests a knight or lady shall retire; yet at times death may claim our character before that hour. When such a fate befalls them, and in keeping with the telling of a chanson-de-geste, each player recounts the history of their knight as though they were a troubadour at the court of some monarch, centuries thereafter. That which is not told is omitted, and soon forgotten. Thereafter the tale continues with the Heirs, whoâwhether for good or illâinherit the glory of their forebears.
A matter of choices is a matter of tastes.
There are four optional rules: the improvement of the Endurance attribute, critical damage, the use of a rotating master of the game, and the Great Campaign of Penllew. In the last of these are introduced the mechanics of decline, whereby the attributes of characters diminish once they pass their thirtieth year.
There is also an optional system of battle, wherein blank cards are employed. Each card represents some featureâbe it a mountain, a river, a battalion, or the likeâand each bears an Action Number. Thus, if for instance thy knight wishes to reach the summit of a hill, it is not enough merely to succeed: that additional die of effect I spoke of must also equal or exceed the Action Number.
Let us say that climbing to the summit of a hill bears an Action Number of five. Then, with that additional effect die, thou must roll a five or greater to achieve it within that round; otherwise, it shall require another round to accomplish.
How a lone Wizard almost became a lone Knight.
Now to the part that most concerned to myself: there are rules whereby it may be played alone. I was expected to be alone in these lands for so long, but sometimes future has different plans. Those rules require the blank cards and some means by which to keep a record of the game. The creation of Avalon likewise calls for the making of other NPCs, who would serve as playable characters were the game undertaken in company.
The rest of the game remains much the same, save that here mention is made of a different phase: the Faction Phase. During this phase the lone player must consult an oracle to determine what course each great house shall follow.
A tale to be told.
Yet what pleased me beyond all else was the example of play, for it encompasses all the (few) rules and the several procedures of the game across eighteen pages in totalâfrom the introduction of the characters unto their retirement from play.
The manual then brings its first part to a close and yields to some sixty pages of guidance concerning that mythological world. Here I found myself wishing for more brief particulars, and less general prose that never quite delves into the playable elements in full. I suspect this came to pass owing to the crowdfunding campaign, which did not succeed; yet despite that ill fortune, the work nevertheless came forth.
The game, without doubt, fulfills what it sets out to do, and I believe that anyone who approaches it with some knowledge of that mythological and historical tradition shall find much to enjoy.
Many a time have I wondered what a role-playing game might be like were its rules the very procedures dictated by the societies, cultures, rites, histories, and geographies of the setting itselfârather than a generic set of directives which thousands of autonomous abaci or the relentless servants of Musa al-Juarismi could calculate infinitely faster than a single human mind.
That moment I knew I shall left that bookshop.
For it was already late. My mind was living a wuthering sense of awe. Even though KNIGHT has been just that, a simple lecture, that day I dared to say it would make a most curious and fitting manual for a live-action game.
And so it was. Perchance, I could play-to-pretend being a Knight in the Lands of Calafia. And I then, when I was leaving the bookshop with the only tome of that book, I came to meet another Knight of Bourgogne, one whose name was Chevalier.
But that perilous quest, is a tale yet to be told.