Tuesday, January 28, 2020

On writing

A sideways jump from the usual topics dear reader, but I hope no less interesting. I've been thinking about content, ownership and copyright. Now I'm no legal eagle and I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty of that side of things, but when talking content you can't not brush up against the sweaty backpack carrying, black T-shirt wearing, monster that is copyright.

When I was a youngster playing Advanced Heroquest and there was no internet, (believe it kids!) once we had played the standard quests that came with the rules and the issues of White Dwarf I'd purchased, we made up our own. Now if I passed those on to a friend at school, would it be okay for one of GW's lawyers to step in and throw a cease and desist on me for doing so? Of course not and I would never suggest they would have done anything of the sort. Now in the age of internet, we all are writing extra scenarios and home rules for the products we play and then sharing them with "friends" across the world. Is it the same? Well, most likely not, if we're honest. It's probably a legal grey area and I'm no expert, I'm not claiming to be. Most companies probably allow it as it encourages their own product, only getting involved if they feel it gives their company a bad name. Then what if I had a blog full of Heroquest scenarios and it became super popular (just bear with me and pretend okay?) and I had thousands of readers and decided to monetorise my blog? I turn on Google Earnings and watch the pennies come in. Is that wrong? Well of course it is, I'd be making money off a property owned by GW. It's my work, but using their intellectual property. Yes it's a big company, but actually there are shareholders, hell I might even know some. I owe them some bank. Don't I? 

It's even easier to consider if I flip the scenario, if it were my own fictional universe, I think I would want some control at least. I guess I would be flattered if I wrote a sci fi novel and someone put some fan made rpg rules on the web set in my universe. If however they completely messed with my characters and changed them to how they felt they should act instead of staying in the spirit of the story I would be cheesed off. If they were selling those rules, or making money off their website where they were published? I'd be calling my solicitor. (or investigating if I could afford to call a solicitor.)

The lines become fainter when you are looking at historical wargaming. There is no intellectual property, just historical facts. But there are rules. How many different ways can you roll dice to get random results? Do you go with multiple sided dice or try and stick to easily available D6? I've dabbled in writing my own rules, sometimes "Frankensteining" others systems, sometimes starting from scratch. (The dream to publish an original work may happen one day.
) Sometimes I have to ask myself am I using a rule mechanic just because it is original or does it actually make the game work? The main thing I find is that all the best game mechanics have already been done. 

Of course the rules I do write that are original, I then have to decide whether to publish on here for free or clutch on to them with the hope they may have some potential for publication one day. Are they good enough? Are they original enough to not put me in copyright legal wranglings?

Luckily I don't have to worry too much about these scenarios. 
A. I'm not really on the radar of anyone right now, having a blog that has a minimal readership. (I don't even get Spam comments in my blog.)
2. I don't make any money off this, I do it for the ego of people reading my ramblings.
iii. I don't really have anything good enough yet for anyone to steal from.

So, to wrap up on this topic. I recently entered a competition to write a piece of fiction for the intro to a fantasy rulebook and my entry was not successful. (Obviously not otherwise you all would have heard about it already so much!) So, after putting a lot of effort into to the writing, I was wondering whether to hold on to the text and tweak it for some future use. Then I decided that it shouldn't sit on a hard drive but be out there to be read and I should move on and write something new. After all it isn't my universe I was writing about. So below is my short story. As always please comment at the bottom of the blog, I love feedback, it proves people are reading this and not just the spambots. Also it shows you have survived to the end. 

Dark Lord Dunmharu.

“The Gargoyles are restless my Lord!” Tareth the Mage shuffled into the candlelit throne room of the Dark Lord Dunmharu. The old Elf clutched the wall, hurrying to approach the master with his news. He eventually found himself at the foot of the throne and collapsed into a heap. “Something approaches.”
Dunmharu heeded the old man’s counsel. He may have lost his sight, but he saw in many other ways. 
“Show me.” Said the Dark Lord.
Tareth reached into his cloak and pulled out a corked bottle of liquid, throwing the contents onto the floor and muttering dark incantations. Images appeared in the puddle. A strange creature with features of a rat, but the size of a man, stood upright, walking on two feet. Clad 
in crude leather armour and carrying a rusty sabre, the creature’s red eyes shone in the almost darkness of the cellar in which it crept.
“What do you see, Master?”
“I know not. But I will not have it wandering about my cellars.” The Lord beckoned one of 
his guards and gestured to the image in the pool of liquid. “Find this creature and bring it to me.”
Once it had been found and brought before him Dunmharu asked the creature, “Do you speak?” Clad in chains, four guards stood around the beast, it struggled to break free. 
“I ssspeak.” Replied the rat.
“What are you?”
“I ssspeak.” The rat repeated. It hissed at the Dark Lord and struggled against its captors once more. The chief guard struck it across the back with the flat of his halberd and it stopped. 
“We Ratkin. We essscape.”
Dunmharu climbed down from his throne and approached the creature, he was curious where the Ratkin had come from, this was no creature of Pannithor that he knew of. Had those foul, bearded Dwarves been tinkering with nature again? It certainly had the stench of the Abyss. 
Dunmharu lifted its arm. The Ratkin’s scars, old and new, around its neck and wrists spoke of a life of captivity.
“Where have you come from?” he asked, examining a tattoo on its forearm. 
“We essscape.”

“I tire of it.” Said Dunmharu, “Take it away and throw it in an oubliette. Maybe if we find more out in the Wastes, we can put them to work.”
The Ratkin was dragged away screaming in protest. Dunmharu slouched back in his throne, Blind Tareth stood to go. “With your leave, I will retire, sire.”
“Of course, Tareth. You’ve earned a rest.”
Tareth began towards the exit, his stick scraping the flagstones to guide his way. Before he reached the door, a shadow dropped from the ceiling, knocking the old man forward towards 
the floor. The shadow was a second Ratkin, dressed in black rags. As Tareth fell the Ratkin drew a dagger across his neck. The blade did not cut deep, but the old man was dead moments after he hit the ground.
“Dirty Ssspellcasster!” screeched the second Ratkin. Dunmharu was already on his feet, sword drawn. The guards at the door were not as quick to react, but soon drew their blades and advanced on the creature.
“Leave it. This is my sport.” Commanded the Dark Lord, taking a step forward. His long, curved sword held out, arm up, blade pointed down. “How many of you are creeping about my halls?”
The rat bared yellow teeth, drew a second longer blade and leapt at Dunmharu. The Dark Lord parried the first strike. This creature showed some skill with the sword. The Ratkin managed to break away and pass through under his blade arm, clambering up onto the throne 
to gain some height. As the two swords clashed Dunmharu could see trace of poison had been applied to the edge of the blade, he knew he would have to avoid even a superficial cut from 
this assassin’s attacks. Kicking out the throne from under the Ratkin, parrying a lunge and a remise from the acrobatic beast, Dunmharu quickly lost interest in the humour of the fight.
He put all his strength behind a wrath blow down towards the Ratkin’s shoulder. The rat tried to block the strike, but its blade just snapped as Dunmharu’s heavier sword followed through, killing the beast.
At that moment the candles in the hall began to snuff out one by one, until it was pitch black. 
Then from the shadows multiple pairs of red eyes began to appear about the hall. Dunmharu smiled to himself.
“Now this is getting interesting.”

2 comments:

  1. Quite a good opening to a story

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    Replies
    1. Thanks Khusru. I'm not sure where it would have gone after this. I had the luxury of not having to worry about it.

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