Nov 07 2008
Superstition in a Fantasy World
Inspired by this month’s RPG Blog Carnival. The carnival topic may be religion, but at the core, both religion and superstition are beliefs.
There are a lot of terms whose definition becomes fuzzy when brought into a fantasy world, but none go quite as gray around the edges as “superstition”. So what, in such a world, actually constitutes a superstition? The answer: there are a lot of factors involved.
In today’s world, a lot of people attempt to draw a line between religious belief and superstition. In a fantasy world where the gods are involved with what’s going on, this gets a bit harder to define. With small numbers of big gods who make it clear what works and what doesn’t, this can work pretty well. But what happens when the gods are smaller and more numerous? Particularly when it gets to the point where there’s a god for everything from the space between the stars to your favorite spear, and not all of them are necessarily good at making their desires clear. Is always taking off your left shoe before your right a micro-prayer or a superstitious ritual? Is it really displeasing to the gods or trying to retract your own life if you retrace your own steps?
Of course, the presence of gods doesn’t mean there won’t be superstition. If anything, the existence of trickster gods ensures that there will be, because spreading the things can be an amusing pastime. One wonders if they even tell their own worshipers the proper rituals.
The gamer, of course, has it a bit easier compared to the residents of the world—but not by much, and only from a metagame perspective. Sure, you can just decide that anything that has a mechanical benefit is real, and the rest is superstition. But even being superstitious can give a mechanical benefit if you take the right Flaws. Besides, what about those things that have a mechanical effect that you just don’t know about? Or the flavor-text portions of the ceremonies conducted by the established religions? They may not have a mechanical effect, but calling them superstition may well result in a number of mechanical effects being aimed in your general direction. Close enough, right?
Speaking of which, how much of the ritual behind magic is really necessary within the framework of the world? Is the material component behind a fireball truly required, or was it just the result of the inventor finally getting the spell right after having soiled his hands falling on a pile of bat dung? Do people have to yell the spell name as they finish casting? If they don’t need to, do they have a reason for doing so anyway?
And of course, no two people within the world will consider the same set of things superstition, interfering divinities or none. One’s sacred ritual might be another’s ignorant nonsense, or one’s method that worked more often than not another’s empty gesture.
No matter what, there will be the human element. The one commonality in almost all fantasy worlds is people, or their local analogs, seeing themselves as small creatures in a big world and clinging to whatever they can find; seeing something work, apparently too often to be coincidence, and clinging to that as a way to feel like they have more power than they actually do. Sure, there are people who claim that advanced societies would be beyond that (along with being beyond the need for myth), but I doubt it for the above reason. Belief, even erroneous belief, is a powerful thing.











A lack of superstition would only really make sense in situations of complete communication… it makes sense that, in circumstances where people don’t know the whole story, they will guess and sometimes get it wrong.
For example, let us say that Fred is the Dark God with all that implies. And let us say that, one day, the only Freddite priest in town is out jumping up and down on the flowers in the meadow. And let it be the case that said Freddite priest decides that it would be fun to use their evil compulsion powers to take mental control of a bunny, and command it to turn itself inside out so that they can laugh at its struggling efforts. And let us say that as they do so, they are hit by a bolt of green lightning and all that is left is a smoking crater.
Now, everyone in town sees this because it’s rather hard to miss. But what do they make of it?
- Did Bob finally exact cosmic vengeance on the priest for a lifetime of perfidy?
- Did Fred punish his own priest for attacking a bunny because of Fred’s hitherto unknown fondness for bunnies?
- Did some other passing god just commit a random smiting?
- Was this a freak natural phenomenon?
There’s no way to know. Sure, they could go into the empty, creepy church of Fred and try to ask said evil deity why (and if) he just smote his own follower for no apparent reason - I mean, that sounds totally safe…
So it’s easier to guess. And - unless they happen to guess right - that’s where superstition comes from. Leave the bunny alone!
Left: Granted. Part of the problem is, of course, how difficult superstition can be to define.
Zomb: Excellent.
Of course, at some point there’s going to be discussion over whether it was cruelty to bunnies in general, or if it was specifically the fact that he was using his Fred-given powers on the bunny…. and that’ll create a couple more possible superstitions, and maybe some particularly brave people trying to find a way to determine which….
So the echo chamber just had a little delay this time. I think I might’ve missed that post.