A game of real losers

Monstrous Mishaps came about because I felt thoroughly sick of fake losers.

The X-Men are really the ur-example here. Don’t get me wrong, I love the X-Men. They’re cool and colourful and dramatic and they fight giant robots, what’s not to like? But the idea that people like them would ever be some kind of oppressed minority is insane. They’re sexy and rich and hyper-competent and they have godlike powers. They wouldn’t inspire hate groups, they’d inspire fan clubs.

Aberrant, for all its faults, is right on the money there. If people started manifesting incredible powers, then they wouldn’t be hunted down like animals. Nor would they start conspiring to take over the world. They wouldn’t need to. Because all the normies would hand them the world, free of charge! Power is attractive.

No, it’s weakness that gets persecuted, weakness that – perversely enough – makes people hate and fear you. I blame evolution, frankly. We’re not wired to respond negatively to people who are strong, because those people are dangerous to cross but potentially useful to befriend. We’re wired to respond negatively to anyone who seems sickly and weak, because there’s no downside in pelting them with rocks until they go away. They weren’t going to help us anyway – they lack the ability – and who knows, whatever they have might be contageous.

Knowing this from (ahem) painful personal experience, any sort of Randian “they hate me because I’m better than them!” moaning has always rubbed me the wrong way. And for someone who loves his fantasy, that’s a bit of a handicap, because fantasy is shock full of the sentiment. It seems like every other setting focuses on some group of supernatural beings who are stronger, smarter and wiser than everyone else, and who inexplicably get kicked around for it.

So with Monstrous Mishaps, my starting position was this: can I create a group of supernatural beings who really would be kicked around, without making them have done something to earn it? Could I create beings with magical powers that were so useless, and whose weaknesses were so obstructive and crippling, that they’d naturally gravitate towards the very bottom of society?

And that idea paired off nicely with another one that’s always fascinated me, that of essential identity unsupported by fact. I think it came from reading the Emperor Norton issue of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman back in the day. Here was a guy who decided that he was the Emperor of America, and was completely unbothered by the fact that no one else took him seriously, because why would an Emperor care what a bunch of peasants thought of him? Of course, his regal dignity was also the only thing that sustained him in the face of a life as a failure and a pauper.

Or, for a less whimsical example, this angsty short story they made us read in Swedish class, about a guy who through mistaken bureaucracy was declared to be a moose. He ended up having to spend hunting season living at the town zoo since otherwise someone might shoot him without breaking any laws. Now that guy, you must admit, was a real hard-luck case!

So taking that a step further, what if someone decided they were a dragon, albeit a dragon that inexplicably looked and functioned just like a regular ol’ human being in every way? What would that guy be like, as a character? Well, for one thing, he’d be kind of put upon, feeling like a failure for not getting to roost on a pile of looted gold like a dragon like himself ought to be able to. He’d see himself as a massive underachiever, wouldn’t he?

So from there, I started sketching out my supernatural Real True Losers, the Monsters. I did give them some supernatural powers, because I felt like it’d provide some flavour, but I tried my hardest to make those powers as underwhelming as possible – the sort of abilities characters in most supernatural games could pull off right out of the gate, I placed at the end of a long and painful learning curve. I also added some supernatural weaknesses, the metaphysical equivalent of Mr. Moose Guy’s exile to the zoo, and made them as bothersome as I could manage without making the characters completely unplayable.

And, like I outlined in a previous post, the setting of Monster World sort of grew up around that concept. It turned out that while the Monsters might be more benighted than most, no one in the setting was particularly successful. In fact, in the end I decided that Monsters weren’t even oppressed, at least not in any systemic way – their failure at living up to their archetypes was so complete that no one even cared, except for the Slayers (and mostly because they were all even more pathetic!).

So in the end, I guess I didn’t quite achieve my goal of creating a genuine, realistic oppressed supernatural group. But hey, them’s the breaks. If I was used to succeeded at stuff, I wouldn’t have been inspired to make a whole game about failing!