NaBloPoMo #3 – TLDR

Okay, more civilized time, albeit with painting urging me along.  Yesterday, I looked at Patterns, and how they form an integral part of Broken’s cosmology; today we go a little deeper.

 

Urtongue

As I mentioned yesterday, in this odd cosmology of mine, the world strives for complexity and meaning.  As River-flows weave themselves into Patterns of increasing intricacy, they gain a deep, essential meaning.  This is where the Urtongue comes from; the language of the cosmos writ small in every part of it.  It’s not a language any mortal being can speak or even understand in its entirity.  Any attempt to manipulate Patterns on this micro-scale rely on the use of  derivative speech, writings or runes that bare the merest resemblence to Urtongue itself; carrying enough of the primal language that merely speaking properly constructed phrases, or carving sigils in precisely the correct way can evoke effects within the Rivers and the Void.

Because of this, languages that exist for long enough will eventually migrate towards the Urtongue; the more ancient, the closer they become to Urtongue and, inevitably, the more risky they are to use.  The way civilisations who are wise enough to recognise this drift cope with this is to construct Shadowtongues; artificial languages untouched by deeper meaning, and without risk of unintended evocation of primal forces.

There are thousands of approximations of Urtongue, evolving over years upon years, now wielded by shamans and magi to subtle, yet powerful effect.  Not all of them are language as we’d understand them; the way a river carves the pebbles it carries with it may be the writings of the river-spirits as they wage terratorial war over possession of streams and tributaries.  The three-fold language of the Ethoun, and Mar’aan oneiroglyphs are likewise reflections of Urtongue, each with their own capabilities and potencies.

Even through this great wealth of knowledge, mortal speakers of Urtongue-analogues can’t hope to attain true mastery of the deeper language; this is impossible as far as the tribes of the modern world are concerned.  The best a Namer or magus can hope for is to weave crude pseudo-Patterns, working from the ground upwards to built webs and weaves through which the energies of the Rivers flow and react.  True mastery was reserved for those for whom it was their native tongue.

And I’ll talk tomorrow about the mad Ul’Ehlt and the rest of the First People.

 

Whys and Wherefores

Frankly, Urtongue and Naming (the process of using it in spells and rituals) is probably the most ill-fitting bit of the cosmology.  It could be removed, if I wanted, but I kind of like it as an inevitable result of the drive to complexity inherent in these alternative physics:  this is a natural law based on semantic and art rather than thermodynamic and mechanics.  It’s through Naming that sorcerers gain control, shamans bind spirits, and craftsmen create artifacts of strange and wondrous power.  So I’m keeping it  With Urtongue, Broken is like some kind of techno-fantasy; with technology and magic blurred into one.  Without it you’d get a more shamanic feel, less scientific and constructed.  Nothing wrong with that, but I prefer the former path.

 

Mechanics

The influence of Urtongue is represented in the game by the skill of Naming, and its derivatives.  In the short term it’s used to reinforce and control other instances of Riverworking; it only has any great direct effect through either lengthy rituals to coerce the flow of the Rivers into doing what you want, or through access to a great external source of power.  Probably more on that later.

 

Sorry for the purple prose.  See you again tomorrow…

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