Fathers & Mothers

Within a month of starting this blog in 2008, I posted a series of tables describing skills that a player could obtain from his or her "father."  That was a convenient appellation; I've since adjusted that to "progenitor," as the source could be a mother, a grandparent, an older sibling or cousin, or a non-related mentor.  This came before the invention of my character background generator, and became a central part of that concept.  It has also since been folded into my sage system.

The goal has always been to provide the character with a childhood that was not conveniently the one a player might want.  I don't know about the reader, but I was not given a choice about the family I was born into, or what town, or what culture or race, or indeed anything about my upbringing, since I was forced to go to school, attend church and numerous other things without my consent.  Because this is how children are raised.

Players would like to believe that their fighter character was obviously raised by a fighter, since this enables the player to believe their character has never done anything else but fight their whole lives.  Unfortunately, even a fighting father would not put a sword into a baby's hands (and if he did, mom would quickly take it away).  Boys and girls are actually raised to do chores, to learn useful skills, to fulfill an expectation, not only having to do with actual character class things, but also convenient stuff like using an axe, making bread, picking weeds, reading books and sweeping floors.  Obviously, for a great many D&D players, this level of detail pops their bubble and they'd rather have none of it.

I play on the premise that fighters, mages, clerics, thieves and so on do not come from members of their own class, but from anyone.  Mom and Dad were farmers?  You ran away, found the big city, fell in with a bad crowd and was taught to be a thief.  Grandpa was a buccaneer?  One day he decided that you shouldn't follow in his footsteps, so he shoved you onto shore into the hands of a tutor with a very large stick, who taught you how to be a cleric.  And you're glad.  Your uncle the priest listened to your deepest wishes and campaigned to get you enough money to travel three hundred miles to a thaumaturgical school where you learned to be a mage.  Born a prince, actual royalty, you fell under the sway of a dark-minded courtier who warped your perception of the world, so that you became an assassin.  The table provides a second piece of information to go along with your chosen class ... and the path that began with who birthed you, to where you ended up, is the background story your character has.

In the meantime, you worked as a farmer for years before running away, and learned about farming.  You scrubbed decks and loaded ships, learning about shipboard life, before your Grandfather packed you off.  You sat years and years in churches, listening to your father's sermons, following him around as he spoke to his congregation one on one, and you learned something about religious power.  Technically, somewhere out there, there is a kingdom with your name on it.  Maybe you have an older sibling; probably your mother and father are still alive.  And maybe you think about them occasionally when you're sharpening your knives.  I don't know.  That's not really my issue.

All this only comes back round to the point that a profession is something your elders had when your character was just a kid.  In a redesign of these tables, something I've not found the passion to build — yet — maybe your background doesn't include parents or anyone who taught you anything.  Even then, I'd argue, you were forced to beg, or scrounge, or learned to live despite starving.  You became a character class.  You must have been good for something.  You wouldn't have wasted your childhood entirely.

For game purposes, these skills must have application.  In 2008, I was still struggling to fix those applications ... I've continued to work on several ideas and slowly, year by year, the measure of what a player can DO gets deeper.  A farmer isn't just someone who plants crops — one learns the seasons, the sight of good food, where to seek mushrooms and how to work very long hours.  Being aboard ship isn't just learning to sail — it's recognizing the sea from one season to the next, its visiting far away places, it's a willingness to eat mouldy bread and visiting markets to buy and sell.  Growing up with a priest as an uncle isn't just picking up a spell or learning to turn undead — its reading and writing, comforting the sick and the poor, speaking your heart and having a deeper faith.  And being a prince isn't just inheriting a kingdom — it is school day after day, with a dozen tutors, endless hours of discipline, mastering decision-making and learning foreign relations.  Players must be led away from believing that the "title" of work that one does is the whole story; it isn't.  If you don't understand this as a DM, talk to a farmer, a shipmaster, a priest or someone who might chance to inherit a title — though I admit, this last might be hard to find.  I went to university with a fellow named Harcourt, whose father was in the House of Lords, who exempted me from calling him, "Your Grace," for which I was grateful.  In any case, there are more books written on the education of princes and princesses than there are about farmer's children.

With this, I'm content to put down the subject about "secondary skills" and move on to the next subject.