Spires of Altdorf (September 2005)
Paths of the Damned, part 2. The first part describes the city of Altdorf, using a format in which each location is first given a general description, followed by sub-sections on 'Fights' (things that might happen if you get in a fight there), 'Social Situations' (things that might happen during social interactions there), and 'Stealth' (things that might happen if you're sneaking around there). It's not an inherently bad idea, but the implementation leaves much to be desired. First it's applied to generic locations - streets, markets, tenements - with the result that most of the content is things you could have thought of yourself. (Did we really need to be told, under the 'Social Situations' subheading of 'A Walled Estate', that 'Elegant drawing rooms with carpets and chairs upholstered in the owner's colours are a fine location for a meeting'?) Then it's applied to various centres of magical or political power, which leads to entry after entry explaining: 'Fights: you can't have a fight here or the wizards will kill you. Social: no-one here will talk to you. Stealth: you can't sneak around here', and so on. Seldom have form and content been so obviously ill-adapted to one another.
All this is followed by an adventure, which picks up where 'Ashes of Middenheim' left off. This adventure clearly wants to be Power Behind the Throne when it grows up, as it involves the PCs running around a city investigating dark deeds, initially unaware that the wizard who seems to be their ally is secretly their greatest enemy. It starts badly, with yet another rigged fight in which the PCs seem doomed until a powerful NPC wizard swoops in and saves them - as if they won't have had enough of that in part 1! - although, in this case, the inevitable resentment that will create among the players will ultimately pay off when they finally discover he was evil all along and get to murder him.
The adventure opens out once it gets to Altdorf, with a large number of NPCs whom the PCs can interact with in any order while being harassed by the minions of a psychotic chaos cultist with a grudge. It still has awful railroady moments like 'if the PCs try to attack the NPCs, an infinite number of watchmen and bodyguards arrive to stop them', or 'if the PCs are losing their fight with the wizard, he suddenly devolves into a chaos spawn', and at 55 pages it's far too long, but it is trying. A strong edit could probably turn this into quite a good social adventure. I might even have a go at writing a condensation of it at some point.
Finally, I rather liked the addition of the 'Lamplighter' and 'Newssheet Vendor' careers. Those are exactly the kind of careers that WHFRP characters should have.
Karak Azgal (October 2005)
Realms of Sorcery (November 2005)
The second edition magic book. Explaining its contents will require a brief discussion of the history of magic in Warhammer.
In WHFRP 1st edition, the magic system was obviously based on D&D. It featured the usual D&D suspects - wizards, clerics, druids, and illusionists - to which it added alchemists, necromancers, elementalists, and demonologists, all of whom had probably also appeared in D&D in one form or another by 1985. Spellcasters learned spells from a suspiciously D&D-like spell list and cast them by spending magic points. There were a few distinctive spells - 'Protection From Rain' is iconic - but aside from the tendency of evil wizards to gradually pick up deformities from using their magic, very little about the system really resonated with WHFRP's supposed theme of dark early modern fantasy-horror.
In 1992, Games Workshop released an expansion set for the Warhammer wargame called 'Battle Magic'. For the first time (I think), this introduced the idea that the Warhammer World had eight colour-coded 'winds of magic' - probably a reference to Pratchett's The Colour of Magic (1983), in which there was an eighth colour that only wizards could see - and that each individual human wizard would be attuned to one of them, allowing them to use the corresponding form of magic. The wizards who could perceive each colour all tended to be the same sort of people - so people keyed into Bright magic would be rash and passionate, people keyed into Amethyst magic would be grim and spooky, and so on - and they clubbed together in groups, giving rise to eight 'colleges of magic', each of which supplied the Empire with colour-coded 'battle wizards'. As you'd expect from a wargame, the spells that these battle wizards could cast tended to be big and spectacular: lightning bolts, meteor strikes, balls of purple energy that turned everyone they touched into amethyst statues, that sort of thing. It also introduced eight other kinds of magic used by various nonhuman races, but it's the colour magic system which is important right now.
The task of reconciling these two very different conceptions of Warhammer magic fell to Ken and Jo Walton, the authors of the first edition Realms of Sorcery book. This book had a famously complicated development history, being announced as 'forthcoming' in 1986 and then not actually appearing until 2001, by which point magic in the Warhammer world had been repeatedly rewritten. (Like many WHFRP fans, I spent the second half of the 1990s patiently waiting for it to appear before finally giving up on it.) Realms managed these contradictions by asserting that colour-based battle magic was a relatively new innovation, having been taught to humans by the High Elves just two hundred years before to help them fight the forces of chaos, and that it coexisted with the older, less martial forms of magic described in the 1st edition core book.
This was fine as far as it went, but it led to something of an over-proliferation of magic types. The eight new ones were layered on top of the eight old ones even though they had massive thematic overlaps, and then yet another form of magic, hedge wizardry, was added for good measure. The distinction between a Jade Battle Mage and a druid, or a Celestial Battle Mage and an air elementalist, or between a Gold Battle Mage and an alchemist, mainly seemed to be that the battle magi were better at blowing things up. The fact that you had to already be a powerful wizard before you could even start learning colour magic also created difficulties for both the lore and the mechanics. Who knew the Emperor had this many high-level wizards to call upon? And how many WHFRP campaigns last long enough for anyone to advance through five levels of battle magic?
The second edition Realms of Sorcery book - which, let us recall, appeared just four years after the first one - tried to cut down on this over-duplication, but it did so by prioritising colour magic over all the other kinds. No longer could you be a 'generic' wizard: you had to pick one colour and stick to it. No more alchemists, only Gold Battle Wizards. Elementalists got merged with hedge wizards. Illusionists got merged with Grey Battle Wizards, who were forced to stop being Gandalf and start being 'shadowmancers' instead. These changes had the advantage of emphasising the more distinctive and, well, colourful aspects of WHFRP magic over its more generic elements, but it also meant locking all wizard PCs into an extremely restrictive system of wizard colleges, wizard licenses, vows of loyalty to the Emperor, and so on, with imperial witch hunters apparently having carte blanche to execute any wizard who steps out of line. Reading the first and second edition versions of Realms of Sorcery side by side, it's striking how much more lassiez-faire the first version is about wizards just wandering off to do normal PC stuff, rather than having to be continuously answerable to the Imperial authorities. Maybe people who didn't want to engage with that sort of thing were supposed to play hedge wizards, instead? (Not a great idea in the 2nd edition setting, with the witch hunters now an officially-sanctioned government organisation with authority to burn non-collegiate magic-users on sight...)
The book is 248 pages long, and it suffers from the standard 2nd edition issues of word bloat and vagueness. The 1st edition book, for all its issues, knew how to keep things sharp and vivid. In first edition, the Amber College is a doorless, windowless tower, marked with mystic runes which inform those sensitive to amber magic of the hidden caves in the wilderness where the true masters of the order can be found... but that's gone in 2nd edition. In 1st edition, amethyst mages never speak, and are taught their magic in a silent, secret language; that language is then used to teach amethyst adepts a second secret language in which their higher secrets are communicated, and the second language is used to teach the order's masters a third secret language, in which their highest arcana are recorded... but that's gone in 2nd edition, too. The gold college abducting the beggars attracted by their wealth and sacrificing them in rituals to turn lead into gold... gone. Colour magic being a deliberately crippled form of magic taught by the elves to the humans in order to ensure they never became too much of a threat... gone. It's all simultaneously more high-fantasy - complete with invisible colleges hidden behind magical barriers - and less... hardcore, maybe? It's also much less complete than the first edition version, with other types of magic - clerical magic, chaos sorcery, ice magic, skaven magic, etc - all reserved for future supplements.
I did like some of the new material. The overall magic system is much more thoroughly worked-out than before: high magic is all eight colours carefully harmonised, colour magic is one colour distilled from the rest to avoid dangerous impurities (which is why it's the only form of magic that can be safely practised by people who aren't capable of high magic), dark magic is all eight colours haphazardly mixed together (which is why hedge magic is dangerous), and true dark magic is high magic backwards, with all eight colours forced together through the unholy exercise of will. The idea that monoliths and henges channel the winds of magic, and evil magicians sometimes deliberately cut the flows so that henges just become pools of stagnant magical awfulness, is the kind of setting detail which allows players to figure out the villain's evil plans (and their own possible counter-measures) both in-character and out-of-character simultaneously, which is always a good thing. The idea that each wind of magic gradually leaves its marks on the wizards who channel it is a good and logical extension of the physically warping effects of dark magic in 1st edition. (Who wouldn't want their gold wizard to have a lead tongue, golden skin, and quicksilver tears?) I liked the rules for building your own freakish familiar, and there are some good and imaginative potions and magic items. The Boots of Bovva make a welcome return.
The book finishes with a 28-page adventure, about some thieves trying to sell a batch of cursed wine as a weapon. It wants to be an investigation, but in practise the PCs just wander around for a while until an NPC invites them for a drink and tells them what's really going on and what they should do about it. (Tellingly, the author never even seems to have considered the question 'what if the PCs decline the invitation?' or 'what if the PCs don't want to go along with the NPC's plan?') It could also have been easily condensed down to seven pages or so.
Overall: some good material. Obviously necessary if you want to use the 2nd edition colour magic system, but imaginatively weaker than the first edition version, which was itself one of the weaker books in the first edition line. Cutting it down to half the length would have made it a better book.
Next time: Forges of Nuln, Knights of the Grail, and Barony of the Damned.