Saturday, April 12, 2025

Sidrak the Sage Asks Some Questions

The blame for this can fall squarely on the Maniculum for introducing me to Sidrak and Bokkus, a medieval text wherein a Babylonian king named Bokkus (or Boctus, or Boccus…) asks several hundred questions to the philosopher Sidrak (or Sidrach, or Sydrac…) who provides some absolutely bonkers medieval-logic answers.

Unfortunately, the Middle English translation doesn’t seem to be easily available online, there is no modern English translation, and the dual-manuscript scholarly edition doesn’t have an ebook or the decency to release after creative commons was invented (This is my box of “translations of ancient and medieval texts should be released under creative commons so that people can freely read and share them” brand soap), and I am too impatient for interlibrary loan. It is on Internet Archive, but you have to have an account and check it out. (As of writing, the volume with the index of questions is checked out by someone else: damn you artificial digital scarcity!)

Anyway: since the master list of goofy medieval worldbuilding questions is out of my reach, I will content myself for now by using the ones that the Maniculum has used for its April Fool’s Day game show episodes.

Some of these questions are very clearly written by a Frenchman in the high middle ages, and are thus exemplars of being weird and uncomfortable.

IMPORTANT EDIT: Skerples has, in an act of sudden heroism, compiled the entire index. The questions are now available.

***


Brother Sidrak has spent the greater part of thirty years compiling a comprehensive survey of the Known World’s knowledge. From east to west and north to south he has wandered along the trade roads and pilgrimage paths with his Book of Questions, seeking volunteers for his great scholastic project. Anyone even modestly cooperative (and in many cases, not cooperative at all) will be peppered with selections from his list of 400-odd queries; whatever answers they give will be dutifully recorded and indexed for later tallying as he calculates which nations and peoples are more or less misguided and in need of salvation (He’s not doing this whole thing to find any answers - he’s certain that he already has them - only to see what other people’s answers are.)

  • Appearance: Wrinkled, sun-darkened skin. Habit patched so many times that it now makes for surprisingly good desert camouflage. Thick grey hair and beard turned off-brown from accumulated dust and grime.
  • Manner: Inquisitive, hyperfocused, performatively pious. Enjoys facts and lore, cares little for context or nuance. Does not consider differing worldviews worth arguing with or understanding, only recording.
  • Wants: To compile all the Known World’s knowledge in a single work (with his name on it, of course); to prove that his sect (and by extension himself) has all the answers.
  • Secret: Has a bastard son out there who has come into some notoriety on his own.


The following answers and their attendant questions were selected at random from volume twelve of the fifth book, The Vulgar, Also Called Cutters, Delvers, Vagrants, Hobos, and Gentlemen of the Road.

***


1. How are birds held aloft in the air?

  • “All birds are avatars of the Simiurgh, who alone possesses the power of flight.”
  • “Their bones are hollow and very light, and their wings push against the air like our feet push against the earth.”
  • “As offspring of the dragon and the phoenix, birds are aligned with both fire and air, and thus naturally live above the earth and sea”
  • “It’s punishment for their rebellion against the giants in the age before the sun.”
  • “They are puppetted around on strings by Atlakhnakha for her amusement and our ruin.”
  • “What the fuck is a bird?”


2. What becomes of falling stars after they fall?

  • “Ever seen a fresh angel corpse? Wildest shit. They’ve got white meat, gold blood, feathers like a peacock show, and they don't rot. There’s one out past Jangar, fell a couple decades ago. Splattered itself across half the township when it hit. Might still be some bones left.”
  • “The smith-priests of Kogan-Usan forge their metallic cores into the weapons of kings. Three are known to us, four are missing, an eighth is suspected and a ninth is pure supposition.”
  • “They hatch into a dragon.”
  • “They disgorge a legion of evil spirits and vile phantasms, after which they suck the vril from the land and poison all plants and animals that live there. They do this to restore their inner fires before returning to the heavens.”


3. Why is the Moon cold and the Sun hot?

  • “The moon used to be hot, but it died and cooled off. That was before the demons took it over from the Moon King.”
  • “If you look closely, you can see the sigil of the Frost Witch inscribed on the cislunar surface.”
  • “Well one of them’s on fucking fire, ain’t it?”
  • “It’s only temporary; the seasons of the heavenly bodies are extremely long, and they run opposite each other. The sun will enter autumn soon, and the moon will warm in its spring.”
  • “The sun was made of Ghanjuk’s golden heart, the moon from his blinded left eye.”
  • “You’ve got it backwards; heat and cold are extensions of Sunness and Moonness.”


4. Of which are there more, grains of earth or drops of water?

  • “Trick question; their natural state is a singular whole, as evidenced by the tendency of both substances to coalesce. In this way every grain of earth and every drop of water is merely a temporary and circumstantial separation.”
  • “They are two elements in a single substance, just in different concentrations along a dirt-water gradient.”
  • “This line of inquiry was judged to be of sufficient stupidity to revoke the favor of Heaven and  banned at the Council of Hanharrat, as was the counting of angels found on pinheads; you are committing heresy by entertaining it.”


5. How many stars are in the sky?

  • “Doesn’t matter, you only need to care about the seven that hate you.”
  • “Twenty-one myriads of myriads, exactly. Minus one for the Betrayer.”
  • “Only one star exists, and it is the Sun; the things called stars are enormous luminescent creatures similar to a great fish or a whale that drift through the aether and feed on moonlight.”

 

6. Why are some people tall and some short?

  • “God saw fit to put the manhood of my enemies at the level of my fists.”
  • “Trends of height come from residual influence of the giants. Most likely, the very tall were born in a land above one of the more intact corpses.”
  • “The gods play dice with each soul, and this determines the qualities of the body they inhabit.”


7. What kind of apple did Adam eat?

  • “It wasn’t the apple that was the issue, it was the cider. Drunkenness is the root of all evils.”
  • “It was the golden fruit of the Hesperides, stolen by Eris and tossed casually into the garden as Adam was naming the zoa and valar. Adam, of course, escalated matters when his answer to the question of who was most beautiful was to ask to sleep with all three of the Tridevae. Simultaneously. He was ambitious, if nothing else.”
  • “Common misconception, there are no apples in the land of Uz: it was a fig. A nasty, rotten fig filled with the larvae of wasps, for good and evil is terrible knowledge to have.”
  • “Eve’s.” [Sidrak notes here that he does not know why the woman waggled her tongue.]
  • “As best as modern scholarship can determine, it was the fruiting body of a shoggoth that had entered its sessile semi-vegetative life stage. This triggered a dramatic increase in neuron density.”
  • “A stolen one. The angels had entrusted Lilith with care of the Tree; Adam wished to be like God but would not stand for having to share it with anyone else.”


8. Why do people sneeze?

  • “Dust? Pollen? I don’t know what you want from me, man, my nose gets tickled and I sneeze.”
  • “Some people say it is caused by invisible sickness spirits: modern natural science has taught us that it is in fact caused by extremely small sickness spirits!”
  • “Your ancestors are fucking in the underworld.”
  • “It’s the signal of a failed der0 transmission from the Air Loom.”
  • “Your astral self has detected the presence of a nearby ghost.”
  • “The air at the bottom of  your lungs is old and needs replaced."


9. What is the greenest thing in the world?

  • “Couldn’t tell you, I’m colorblind.”
  • “The gossamer robes of the Emerald Emperor, lord of all elves.”
  • “There is no green more beautiful than the countenance of Yha’galuush, orc god(dess) of love and sex. To see a single glimpse of them is to see the greatest treasure on the earth.”
  • “A tree in early summer, about midmorning or so, when the sun is warm and the sky is clear, and a faint breeze rustles the leaves above your head.”
  • “Saw this one malachite idol once. Someone in one of the other cutter camps had dragged it out of the Tomb of the Serpent Kings and was showing it off. Got his ass cursed for it. Anyway, it was really green.”


10. What is the best animal?

  • “Dogs is gods, y’know.”
  • “The elephant; they are both the wisest and most moral of all creatures, far beyond mankind in both capacities.”
  • “There’s this kind of slug down below - very brightly colored, glows in the dark - that feeds on blood. Its ooze foams up and gets gummy when it hits air, and it cleans inflection from a wound. See this scar on my neck? Woulda died without one of those things. Don’t eat em, though, poisonous as hell; numbs you for a while, then excruciating pain.”
  • “The Questing Beast is of symbolic primacy, for it is the human condition; chasing that which we can’t ever catch.”
  • “Dragons. Because if they can die, so can kings.”
  • “Is not man merely an ape who has stolen fire from the gods?”


11. Why is seawater salty?

  • “They are made of the Moon’s tears, after she was rebuked by the archons for changing her face.”
  • “Lot’s wife was a giant, one of the Nephilim.”
  • “It was struck by the star of Wormwood at the birth of the gods.”
  • “It used to be blood!”
  • “It is a vast dilute ooze, slowly dissolving the stone of the world.”
  • “Fish piss.”

 

12. When dogs fuck, why are they more tightly joined than other animals?

  • [Much of the page is taken up by a bloodstain and a note explaining that the interviewee, a cynocephalon from the kingdom of Prester John, had punched Brother Sidrak very hard in the nose when asked this question.]


13. Why did God make the Earth round like a ball?

  • “It is the ideal shape for pondering.”
  • “Easier for the elephants to keep balanced on their backs when the turtle moves, discs are usually too unstable for life to develop.”
  • If you look at this diagram you will see that it is in fact a concave depression surrounded by vast walls of ice that then forms a dodecahedron…”


14. Is magic real?

  • “Earlier today I lit a man on fire by snapping my fingers and then sold his possessions to a talking plant who walks the dying neurons of Yog-Sothoth. What do you fucking think?”
  • “As everything that exists exists within nature, the supernatural cannot exist. Magic exists, therefore it is natural, and therefore it is not magic.”


15. Where in the body does the soul live?

  • “In the lungs, with the breath.”
  • “In the heart, with the blood.”
  • “In the stomach, with the heat.”
  • “In the testicles, with the seed.”
  • “In the eyes, the brain, and the hands, where ideas turn to actions.”
  • “In the womb, where two are made one.”


16. Why are some people white, some black, and some brown?

  • “Presumably because they are not blue, red, or purple as they are in my homeland.”
  • “You see only three colors in mankind? Such dullness”
  • “I can only speak to the first; an albinic is a test from the gods, to see if men lose their wits and their morals when confronted with one who is different.”
  • “Because humans, sadly, have lost their beautiful fur.”
  • “God ran out of colored ink after painting all the birds and fish.”


17. If someone is deaf, blind, and mute, in what language do they think?

  • “The feral howling that undergirds all of reality.”
  • “Standardized Mi-Go Interface Language, if their ancestry can be traced back to Atlantis; otherwise they will think in either Ural-Altaic, Dravido-Koreanic, or Dene-Caucasian depending on which son of Noah their people descend from.”
  • “None at all; they will think in pure thought, as the gods do. This is why they are so powerful in the magical arts.”


18. How should one remove a bone or thorn stuck in the throat?

  • “Don’t eat things with thorns? Or at least pluck them out first, Jesus.”
  • “The Von Heimlich Maneuver.”
  • “I keep forgetting humans can’t just eat bones.”


19. Should the rich be judged in the same way as the poor?

  • “Gods, I wish.”
  • “No, because at least that way they’re honest about fucking us over.”
  • “Of course not! Do you understand how long it took to quarantine all the rich men of the world on the Golden Isle? Bringing them to court for any of their heinous crimes against God, nature, and their fellow man would remind them that the rest of us exist! May God bless and keep those bastards as far away from us as possible.”
  • “I do not know. We do not have poor men in my country, though  I suspect it is because we have yet to invent rich men.”


20. Why does shit stink?

  • “It’s filled with the angry but extremely weak ghosts of everything you ate.”
  • “You’d smell like shit too if you were chewed up and dunked in stomach bile.”
  • “All the good qualities of the food have been taken into the body, leaving behind only the bad parts, and this produces the miasmatic effect.”


21. What animal lives the longest?

  • “It’s a sliding scale of turtles. Small turtles, medium turtles, big turtles, zaratans, world-turtles, turtles all the way up and down.”
  • “Not animals, but trees: Mighty Pando was old long before mankind was shaped from the clay.”
  • “I was nineteen, and had just signed up with a mercenary company heading eastward. We went all the way to World’s End Lake before turning round, but when we were there - I don’t even recall what we were doing there anymore - we saw the Dragon. Not a dragon, the Dragon. She that watched the iron star fall from the sky and destroy the world of the Feathered Men. Was nearly eighty years ago now that I saw her, and those years are nothing. She has lived them a thousand thousand times over.”


22. What are the best colors of clothing to wear?

  • “Context-dependent on what monster is trying to eat you - some manner of dappled green, brown, or grey is good for general purpose, but you’ll want to be careful about the saturation and contrast depending on what colors it can see. Not knowing a monster’s visible spectrum is a sure way for a greenhorn to get killed. Oh, and scrambler patterns are good to throw off enemy wizards, they have a real difficult time targeting you if they can’t make out your face.”
  • “Blue. Dunno why, I just like it.”
  • “A black tunic with a white sash, for that is what Emar wore when he assassinated the Five-and-One Emperors.”


23. What is the worthiest day of the year?

  • “The vernal equinox, when we renew our vows with the spirits of the world.”
  • “May the 25th, in honor of the One-Night Republic and the start of the Revolution.”
  • “Calendrical division of time is arbitrary and false; all days are sacred.”
  • “Every alternating Friday, ‘cause that’s when the paycheck clears.”
  • “The vigil night of Inti, our lost Bringer of Day.”


24. What happens to fire after it goes out?

  • “It reverts to its invisible aerial state as phlogiston.”
  • “It is gone forever, and the cosmos is diminished.”
  • “It returns to the smaller sun. Mankind has yet to steal fire from the greater sun.”
  • “It is dead, having reached the end of its lifespan. Such elementals are brief things, compared with those of water and earth, yet not so brief as those of the air.”


25. How may a child come out of its mother’s womb?

  • “Bloody, naked, and screaming battle-cries against this cruel world and its demiurge.”
  • “Sometimes by surgery, sometimes by miracle, usually with great difficulty.”
  • “What is a ‘womb’? Is that a variety of forge? Do you not carve new descendants out of the living stone?”
  • “I’ve had three of the little bastards, and let me tell you, we made a mistake when we gave up laying eggs.”
  • “You…use their true name to summon them out of the mother without pain or struggle? Like a reasonable person?”


26. How many children may a woman carry in her womb at one time?

  • “One to three, barring any mythical importance. Then it can go up to seven, though I only know of one case in written memory. Which means we have two or possibly just one left before the end of the world, to satisfy the Law of Threes.”


27. What causes animals to go mad?

  • “The Hell Star, obviously.”
  • “Cannibalism of their own kind. Prion disease is scary shit.”
  • “Long-term isolation within a zoological garden.”
  • “Pain, stress, and loneliness, otherwise diseases of the mind or the influence of dread powers. Same as with man.”


28. Which women give the most benefit & delight to men?

  • “I do, it’s me, it was me all along. My hips don’t lie and my thighs save lives. You’re welcome, men.”
  • “Call me when you find a man who provides any benefit or delight to a woman and I might have an answer for you.”
  • “Making some bold assumptions today, are we?”
  • “A succubus woven from the hot black flame, bound by mask and name to fit the sorcerer’s specific desires. She will, inevitably and justly, stick a knife in his neck and string his corpse from the tower balcony as a warning.”
  • “I do not consent to adventure in your magical realm. Away wi’ ye, foul wizard!”


29. What is the best and worst body part of man?

  • “Oh fuck you, man. This is such an obvious setup to get me to say ‘his cock’, and then you’ll launch into a sermon about the importance of semen retention or some shit.”
  • “His cock, obviously.”


30. Why did Noah take evil animals, such as scorpions, adders, and snakes, onto the ark?

  • “He owed the Serpent a favor.”
  • “I question why snakes are here twice while wasps are not mentioned at all. Scorpions only sting you if you fuck around with them and then you deserve it.”
  • “One; because God said every animal. Two; no animal but man has knowledge of good and evil and thus all harmful animals are innocent by way of ignorance.”
  • “Ah, it’s metaphorical, you see. Representative of a mass extinction event some thirty thousand years before Christ that saw a resurgence of the flying polyps.”


31. Which gives greater cunning, hot food or cold food?

  • “Well, it’s not whatever I’m eating now. What the fuck is with you people and food temperature?”
  • “If I eat a frozen chili pepper, is it cold or hot?”
  • “Do I look like someone who cooks their food? I’m a fucking ghoul.”
  • “Hot, naturally; you try thinking straight with a brain freeze.”
  • “Cold, obviously; hot foods overheat and may potentially melt the brain. Your thoughts become sluggish, in any case.”
  • “You must be one of those ‘salt has too much flavor’ types, eh?”


32. Sort from most to least numerous: animals, humans, fish, birds

  • “Trick question; all of these are fish.”
  • “What the fuck is a bird?”


33. Should people greet each other whenever they meet?

  • “Hardly! Repeated headbutting, even for an orc, is bound to leave lasting damage.”


34. Which is worthier, maidenhood or virginity?

  • “I have dealt with a lot of men who can’t get any and I used to be a preteen girl: both groups possess an immeasurable capacity for evil.”
  • “Best of all is to be a kind and considerate lover.”
  • “Never ask this question again.”
  • “Motherfuckers like you who think virginity is magical are why I was sold into slavery in a unicorn slaughterhouse when I was eight. Crawl up your own ass and drown in shit.”


35. How are worms bred in the body and how do they feed?

  • “Oh, do you not know? Congratulations! Today you get to learn about endoparasitic wasps!”


36. On what day and at what time will the Final Judgement occur?

  • “Whatever the day, thanks to time zones it will take place at all hours at once.”
  • “The final judgement will never occur, as the increased population of Earth has clearly overloaded the celestial bureaucracy and made it unable to render preliminary judgement - that’s why no one gets smote anymore.”
  • “No one knows the day or the hour, dipshit.”


Saturday, April 5, 2025

Lets Build a PIE Conlang 2: Water and Fire

Part 1: Introduction and *h₁n̥gʷnís

Let’s get right into it.

1. *wódr̥

This is the most common recon!PIE word for water, surprising absolutely no one. It's not the only word, but it is the generic one vs the more active "body of water" found in *h2ep. I’m actually going to do this one backwards.

1.1 -r̥

*wódr̥ is a fun one, because it’s what’s called a heteroclitic stem: In the “strong” cases (nominative, vocative, and accusitive) it ends in *-r̥, but in the “weak” cases (everything else, but genitive is the standard example), we find an *-n̥ where we’d expect to find an *-r̥ (ie *wódr̥ / *wédn̥s).

This is one of the clearest traces we have of PIE’s internal history: r/n stems are pretty rare outside of the Anatolian languages, indicating that they’re the leftovers of an older system (just what I am looking for), and the trace of an old sound change is obvious. They’re all also neuter nouns, so another point for animacy distinction.

Since it ends in a syllabic consonant, I can slot in an **ə in front of *-r̥, being a reduced / unstressed **a.  Then I just wind back *r < **n  and we have **-an and a new step to our sound-change list

Final N > R Shift: **n > *r when word final, following an unstressed **a / **ə

(This is going to need more specificity in the future, because we’ve got those pesky *-mn̥ stems to deal with.)

Word progress: -an

1.2 d

Plain voiced stop, no special circumstances, this is going to be **t’ (or, since the stress is on the first syllable, **’t.)

Word progress: -’tan

1.3 ó

No avoiding it now; it’s time to rip off the bandage and talk about vowels.

Traditional recon!PIE operates on the assumption that every syllable has a vowel slot, which can potentially hold *e, *o, the long versions of those vowels, or nothing at all. These are called “grades”, and are used to describe ablaut patterns: a slot is in such-and-such a grade in these cases, then shifts to another slot in other cases, it’s such-and-such grade when stressed, and this-or-that grade when unstressed. It’s all terribly complicated.

*a doesn’t fit into the ablaut patterns at all, so a lot of reconstructioneers will say “oh it’s an allophone of *e when adjacent to *h2” because that does fit ablaut patterns, and every other case will be written off as a marginal phoneme inherited from nursery talk or loanwords.

This runs into two problems: Problem 1 is that the traditional ablaut patterns might not be true in the first place. Paul Kiparsky (2010) suggests an alternative that he calls the Compositional Model, where stress placement previously treated as arbitrary ablaut patterns are the result of a process of several underlying rules applied in a specific order. This theory has not caught on with PIE studies at large (likely because it throws out like 50% of the entire field), but I find it a lot more appealing, understandable, and reasonable than the patterns and paradigms.

Problem 2 is that there are languages with only two vowels out there - conveniently located right next door in the Caucasuses - but those vowels are never /e/ and /o/. All the languages that have only two or three vowels will distinguish them by height, not by backness.
  • Abkhaz has either /ɨ/ and /a/ or /ə/ and /a/, depending on who you ask.
  • Kabardian and Adyghe have /ə/, /a~ɐ/, and /ā/.
  • Ubykh and Arente have /ə/ and /a/
(Note: these languages tend to have a lot of allophonic variation, where the underlying vowel is pronounced differently according to its surroundings - similar to what is reconstructed for PIE. So you can get an [ə] that sounds like /i/ or /u/.)

You will notice that all of these languages have /a/. In fact, the only languages I know of that don’t have /a/ are Arapaho and its closest relatives, and even then they have /i/ and /u/ to pick up the slack and it’s clear by comparison to the rest of the family that they had /a/ at some point and later lost it.

So either real!PIE had a vowel system that has never before been documented in a human language, or recon!PIE is using misleading symbols out of tradition.

(You can guess which side I come down on)

Kümmel (2012) posits that at least in early PIE, *e was **æ  ~ **a and *o was **ɑ, which was itself descended from ***ā. This is, ultimately, the base I will be using because it requires the least amount of jumping through hoops (I will still be jumping through hoops, and I don't have all the edge cases hammered out yet, so for now all we need to care about is that *ó is **(I’m using circumflexes for when it is both long and stressed)

Word progress: -â’tan

1.4 w

I have two options available
  • Option 1: *w in this environment is **w, final word is **wâ’tan
  • Option 2: Long high vowels (**ī, **ū) split into (**ya, **wa) > (*yo, *wo) when word-initial. Final word is **ʔû’tan.
Erring on the side of aesthetics, I gotta go with Option 2. That’s a goodass word right there, we’re cooking with ‘ank’ʷani now!

2. *péh₂wr̥

This is the other recon!PIE word for fire, which was much more common than *h₁n̥gʷnís and represented fire as a substance (-r̥ on the end is a sure sign of a neuter noun)

2.1 p

*p is **p, no issues here.

Word Progress: p-

2.2 éh₂

At last, my nemesis reveals itself.

*h₂ is the reconstructioneer’s magic bullet. You can drop it in anywhere to explain anything: it can turn *e into *a, it can turn short vowels long, it can aspirate voiceless stops, it explains ablaut paradigms; it can be a consonant, it can be a vowel, it can be a consonant that acts like a vowel or a vowel that acts like a consonant. Depending on who you ask it, it can be reconstructed as *q, *qq, *x, , , *h, or *a. I am certain there’s a paper out there claiming with utmost sincerity that it can turn lead into gold and resurrect the dead.

Kümmel (2022) once again saves the day with what I think is the most convincing argument. Short version:
  • The *h₂*h₃ laryngeals inherited into the Anatolian languages were a fortis-lenis pair (likely voiced/unvoiced) of uvular consonants - probably fricatives, but stops is possible in the extremely early stages.
  • This applies only to Anatolian languages and Homsar Hol, since it’s clear that they work differently in Strongmadian and Strongsadian PIE.
This all aligns with [A PAPER THAT I LOST THE LINK TO GOD DAMN IT], who comes to a similar conclusion by analyzing Anatolian terms that were loaned into neighboring languages that had more robust scripts (Anatolian languages were mostly written with inherited cuneiform, which wasn’t designed whatsoever for them). All fine and good, but I am still not satisfied. Time for some major creative license and a new list of principles:
  • I am operating under the assumption that the *H series changed so radically between Homsar Hol and later Strongmadian and Strongsadian PIE that they were essentially independent sound systems.
  • If there’s attestation in an Anatolian language (ie, if shows up), there’s definitely a laryngeal there (either *h₂ or *h₃, they used the same symbol for both)
  • If an Anatolian cognate shows no sign of *h₂ but it’s reconstructed with one anyway, the reconstruction is incorrect and there was just normal **a.
  • If there’s no Anatolian cognate at all, we go by secondary evidence and vibes.
  • Voiceless aspirates in Indic languages are decent evidence of a laryngeal being there, though I am less certain on what kind.
  • Long vowels on their own are not sufficient evidence, since there are other ways for long vowels to form than just through laryngeal deletion + compensatory lengthening.
    • Example: *muHs (“mouse”) is typically reconstructed with an unknown laryngeal to explain why the descendants have a long /u/ - I am going to apply  Szemerényi's law and Occam’s Razor and say that either A) the original form was *mus-s and Sze’s law kicked in as normal or B) it was originally *mu-s and Sandall & Byrd (2014) are correct.
  • Greek Triple Reflex is insufficient justification on its own - if there’s no other evidence, I’m saying it was probably just a regular-degular vowel. Maybe if the vibes are good I’ll pick and choose.
  • If the only justification for there being a laryngeal present is vowel coloration, it’s suspect.
  • *h₃ had a backing effect, not a rounding effect; if it turned *e into *o because of labialization, then the *Kʷ series would have done it as well.
  • If all other options are exhausted and there is no way to rule out a laryngeal or identify it, the dice decide. 1-2 are *h₁, 3-4 are *h₂ , 5-6 are *h₃.

Finally getting back to the word at had, this one comes with easy Anatolian attestation via Hittite paḫḫur and Luwian pāḫur. That double form is unique to  *h₂, so I’m going to add a bog-standard unvoiced uvular fricative **χ. *e is **a, naturally.

(I could have *h₂ = **q, but I am saving **q for the time being.)

Word Progress: paχ-

2.3 wr̥

Here we get another heteroclitic stem; the *r̥ is **n, but we do have another variable with the vowel. This ending is attested in Hittite as -war, so I'm going to make things easy for myself and go with **-wan; since it's an unstressed vowel we get a nice clean shift of **-wan > **-war > *-wr, with Anatolian languages either inheriting **-war whole cloth, or just adding an /a/ back in.
 
Final Word: paχwan

3. Dictionary entries

  • ʔû’tan (IN): Water as a general substance, regardless of size, state, drinkability, or other factors. Generic, non-branded water.
  • páχwan (IN): Fire; typically a controlled fire (campfire, cooking fire, fire for illumination, etc)

Since I started with words that were all a root + a suffix, I can add some derivational suffixes as well.
  1. ʔank’ʷaní = ʔank’ʷa + (a)n + í
  2. ʔû’tan = ʔû’t + an
  3. páχwan = páχ + u/w + an
Which, after tweaking the existing definitions, end up as
  • -(a)n (SUF) - Generic inanimate / passive nominalizer; turns root verbs into nouns
  • -i (SUF) - Forms nouns of animacy / activity
  • -ani (SUF) - Forms animate / active (but not agent) nouns from verb roots
  • -u/w (SUF) - Forms action nouns from verb roots
  • -wan (SUF)  - Forms object nouns from verb roots

Or to break it down:

  • páχ- = "to warm"
  • páχ-w-  = "(the action of) warming"
  • páχ-w-an = "warming thing"

 

4. Corrections and Revisions 

Despite liking Glen Gordon's "labiovelars come from reduction of an older /u/" theory, it doesn't really jive with how I'm going to be handling vowels anymore: that step has been axed. Since only one word was effected, that barely means anything.
 

5. Conclusion

Well, I'm having fun. Don't know about all y'all, but I'm having fun. So much idle musing and scribbling on sticky notes is finally starting to become something coherent - honestly, I think it's the format that does it. Much easier to get my thoughts in order when I force myself to describe it to an audience step-by-step.
 
It's honestly a really cool feeling seeing things start to snowball - with the right groundwork and basic rules laid down, the rest just kinda flows naturally.
 
I think I have one more of these in the tank for the time being, then doubtlessly more stuff later on down the line. Don't want to overdo it and scare everyone away.
 
 


Saturday, March 29, 2025

Let's Build a PIE Conlang 1: Intro + First Word

TLN sent me this ages ago

I have been deep-diving on Proto-Indo-European linguistics for the last year for Conlang Reasons, which has filled me with useless knowledge that makes me very fun at parties. Now, after many false starts and nigh-constantly running up against one wall or another, I have returned from the depths with treasures. And / or eyes on the inside.

0. Prelude to the Introduction

The first thing to get out of the way is this: PIE studies are bullshit (slightly affectionate) for reasons you will hear a lot about; the second thing is that this rabbit hole is so deep I am bumping elbows with Tsathoggua, which makes for blogposts bogged down in tedious explanations of each and every weird thing in a desperate attempt to make any of this chicanery make any sense at all.

So as to avoid dumping everything on y’all all at once, for this post I’m only going to do an introduction with my goals & design principles, and then go through an example word sound-by-sound to show how I got from the abstracted reconstructed version to the conlang proper.

Third and potentially most important thing to get out of the way first: there is no “true” PIE; there was a dialect continuum spoken by some Eurasian steppe nomads, and that dialect continuum drifted and fragmented over thousands of years as its speakers spread out across west-central Asia, India, and Europe. Reconstructions of PIE are an abstraction used to describe a language we have no attestation for; they’re closer to algebraic formulas than an actual language, and they are algebraic formulas composed with limited data, bias, best guesses, academic dogmatism, outright crankery, occasional bits of insight, and every other skew you can possibly think of. Ceci n'est pas une *h₁éḱwos.

This is made infinitely more frustrating by PIE reconstructioneers (this is the official technical term) and lay linguists alike using “Proto-Indo-European” to describe the reconstructed language-abstraction and the real historical language(s) interchangeably, despite the former being a work of artifice set in amber outside of time and the latter being three goblins and a horse in a trenchcoat. I myself will be guilty of this, but I will try not to be by saying "when I say how something works in PIE, I am talking about how linguists think real!PIE worked according to how they have built reconstructed!PIE like some sort of word-demiurge, not how it actually worked in reality". 
 
General time periods will be named according to a schema of my own devising.
  • Homsar Hol - Prior to the divergence of my as-yet unnamed language family; “Pre-Indo-European” or “Pre-Indo-Anatolian”
  • Strongbadian PIE - Prior to the divergence of the Anatolian languages from the core continuity; “Proto-Indo-Anatolian”, “Proto-Indo-Hittite”, or “Early PIE”.
  • Strongmadian PIE - An era of significant differentiation between core and fringe speakers; “Middle PIE”
  • Strongsadian PIE - Total dissolution of the core speaking community, dialectal continuity completely lost by this stage; “Late PIE”.
Branches and their lower-order reconstructions aren’t really going to show up here, so I will just use their normal names.

Now with all that out of the way, let’s get inside baseball.

1. Introduction

Emboldened by the flame of ambition, this project began with two must-haves:
  1. It was going to belong to its own branch of the greater Indo-European family (and likely become very weird because of it)
  2. I wanted to retain the infamous mystery-consonant laryngeals in some form.

Point 2 immediately gave me no shortage of issues, because outside of a few edge cases in Iranian and Armenian the only descendants to retain laryngeals are the Anatolian languages; Anatolian languages are so divergent from all the others that you need to consider pre- and post- Anatolian split as wholly different stages of the PIE continuum deserving of wholly different reconstructions (Strongbadian vs Strongmadian PIE), which the mainstream reconstruction doesn’t bother to do. So I ended up having to trudge through material that is bogged down in features that didn’t exist at the time I wanted to split my language off from the whole.

(Granted, good data for this sort of thing is even harder to come by than the usual, and historical linguistics is an extremely slow-to-adapt field).

It does not help, and this one is entirely on me, that I was using Wikipedia for most of my research: Wikipedia’s PIE pages are abyssmal. Outdated, contradictory, poorly-written and inadequately explained, they will teach you the wrong things and then you will have to waste a considerable amount of time unlearning all the horseshit. Don’t do what I did.

1.2 Brief List of Sources

I’ll have a longer writeup later on down the line: the bulk of my inspiration thus part has come from the work of Martin Kümmel, Andrew Byrd (he made Wenja for Far Cry Primal), Paul Kiparsky (primarily for his Compositional Theory), the blogs Paleoglot (Glen Gordon), PhDniX’s Blog (PhoeniX), and protouralic.wordpress (J Pystynen), some random bullshit I found on reddit, and The Oxford Introduction to Proto-Indo-European and the Proto-Indo-European World by Mallory & Adams. I'll try and update this as I continue.


1.3 Core Premise & Design Principles

I am for the time being painting the speakers in broad strokes, and will have to be content with worldbuilding as I go.  
  • The speakers diverged from the main language continuity extremely early, leading to a language that doesn’t include many of the features later PIE stages are known for, and retains several major parts that were lost.
  • The point of divergence was sometime between █████ and ████ BC.
  • The speakers’ culture runs orthogonal to the patriarchal horse-based murder that characterized much of the later PIE culture group(s), and they may or may not have even remained in this world.
  • I am not going to worry overmuch about where the vocabulary comes from, at least not at the moment; while I will try to stick to words with more solid / widespread attestation, some might time travel to before their invention.
  • The rules are made up and the points don’t matter.

The early point of divergence gives me some guidelines to follow with the actual content of the grammar: it’s going to retain features that were lost entirely in other branches (or only survived as scattered and unproductive archaisms), and it’s going to sidestep the development of some signature features of later stages of the family. As of right now, that’s going to include:
  • The laryngeal consonants (which are not actually laryngeals) are retained.
  • Active-stative alignment rather than nominative-accusative alignment
  • No grammatical gender; animate / inanimate distinction is only semantic at this point, not morphological.
  • No thematic endings (or at least not in the way they are typically reconstructed.)
  • Pre-syncope - This language is set before the stress-based syncope obliterated most of the vowels in the Great Dying / Vowel Mass Extinction / Schwapocalypse / the Fuckening.
  • No ablaut - or at the very least, I’m going with Paul Kiparsky’s Compositional Theory if I need to, because I can grok it much easier.
  • No vowels in hiatus - This is pretty well established in PIE, vowels that are next to each other either merge into a long vowel, have a glide inserted between them, or turn into a glide.
  • No geminate consonants - Also well established in PIE.
  • Everything's got to start with a consonant, but that includes the glottal stop so it's basically cheating - this is in line with modern ideas of root constraints, though for my purposes roots don't also have to end with a consonant.

Don’t worry if you don’t have a fucking clue what I am talking about here, we’ll get to it eventually.

Principle 0: Art over accuracy
As I said in part 0, accuracy is a mug’s game in historical linguistics. I’ve aimed for the sweet spot of “coherent enough to make sense” and “I personally like it”, with the latter taking priority in cases where I need to decide. This is an art project based on half-baked amateur linguistics and the power of Pattern Recognition, nothing more. (To be honest, I had to enforce this principle on myself just to stop the what-if rabbit-holing and decision paralysis.)

Principle 1: The Two-Step Plan
I want to do two distinct stages of this language: the one I’m going to be describing here is the older of the two, which is intended to be pretty close to the core Strongbadian PIE dialect. The later one is where we go off the rails.

Principle 2: Areal features yes, macrofamilies no

There was absolutely cultural and linguistic exchange going on between the peoples of east Europe / west Asia: that does not mean that their languages are connected via descent from a shared origin. I will pillage loan words and grammatical features from Proto-Kartvelian, Proto-Caucasian, Proto-Uralic, and Proto-Semitic if I think there’s something neat, but I’m not designing this conlang to align with the Indo-Uralic, Pontic, or Nostratic theories (note: these are all varying levels of fringe, and I only recommend looting them for creative purposes.)

Principle 3: Crank Credits
Sometimes the cranks have a good idea or two; these will be called out with the cashing in of a Crank Credit™. I don’t expect many of them, because the reasonable ideas are few and far between and the entertainingly bonkers ones are somehow even rarer. (I did find one guy I found who somehow managed to turn recon!PIE into Earthsea magic, though it is not as cool or useful as you would hope.)

(Fun fact: there is absolutely no requirement whatsoever for anything uploaded to Academia.edu to have any connection to an institution of higher learning or a peer-reviewed publication.)
 
Principle 4: Moderation in laryngeals
I am going into this project with the presumption that zealous reconstructioneers overuse laryngeals as an inconsistency-solving tool. *h₂ cannot possibly be that common and be a single phoneme, that’d make what is probably a uvular fricative the second or third most common consonant in the language and that is bonkers.

Principle 5: *a definitely existed
We’ll get to this one. 

Principle 6: Symbol Usage

I will be marking normal reconstructions with the usual asterisk like *so, and I will mark my own bespoke Pre-PIE reconstructions with two **asterisks. This will be strictly in reference to explaining how things from my version of recon!PIE changed to get to traditional recon!PIE.

 X < Y means “X derived from Y”; X  > Y means “X turns into Y”

I promise this is the end of the set up.

2. *h₁n̥gʷnís

First and most important thing (I'm really saying that a lot, aren't I): this isn’t actually one of the PIE words for fire; This is a formula representing one of the PIE words for fire. Think of every letter here as an algebraic variable that, if you apply the right sequence of functions to it, will become words like Sanskrit agni and Latin ignis. If you had a time machine, popped into a settlement of Eurasian steppe nomads, pointed at the campfire and said “*h₁n̥gʷnís!” you’d get some very strange looks but if the reconstruction is solid the confused steppe nomads would probably figure out that you meant “fire” and correct your gods-awful pronunciation.

(Granted, that’s dependent on them being from one of the dialects that used *h₁n̥gʷnís in the first place: it’s the less common of the two.)

2.1.1: Basic Structure

*h₁n̥gʷnís can be broken down into component parts:
  • h₁engʷ- ; a root with a general meaning of “to burn” or “fire”.
  •  -n- ; An extension added to the root of entirely unknown function: it’s here in *h₁n̥gʷnís, but missing from the related *h₁óngʷl̥ (“charcoal” or “embers”). It might be part of the suffix?
  • -i- ; A suffix that makes animate nouns out of verbs or adjectives.
  • -s ; The nominative singular case ending


2.1.2: h₁

Starting off strong we get one of the mystery laryngeal consonants; these are sounds (that are not actually laryngeals) that were lost in all IE languages (save the Anatolian languages, a few edge cases in Iranian and Albanian, and this weird thing called the Triple Reflex in Greek) but we know that they were there because they influenced nearby vowels (and sometimes consonants). There are normally three laryngeals reconstructed, sometimes four, but some people have gone as low as 1 (highly unlikely) and as high as 10 or 12 (also unlikely, but less unlikely when framed as h₁, h₂, and h₃  encompassing multiple sounds each)

h₁ is the easy one, because it doesn’t have much going for it: it lengthened vowels, it didn’t have any coloring effect on *e (the others did, more on that eventually), it sometimes turned into e in Greek, and it vanished in all descendents (including Anatolian). Nearly all reconstructioneers plug it in as either *h or , since those sounds fit all the criteria: I’m going to be going with the glottal stop ʔ (for the time being, stick a pin in that).

Word Progress: ʔ-


2.1.3: n̥

That little dot means that this is a syllabic resonant - a consonant that can serve as the nucleus of a syllable in place of a vowel. English has them all over the place (It’s why “little” is two syllables) and they’re not particularly difficult to wrangle. Syllabic consonants are almost always the result of a nearby vowel being reduced and / or deleted, and we can clearly see that the root h₁engʷ- has a vowel in it: this is an example of ablaut, which is when vowels change and carry different meanings when they do (English sing-sang-sung is an example of ablaut).

In this case, since the stress is on the , the *e got reduced/deleted because there was a resonant to pick up the slack. But since my language doesn’t have stress-based deletion as part of ablaut, it’s going to stay as **en.

Vowels in PIE reconstructions are a 50 gallon drum of worms that I am going to save for another time: for now, I am going to say that *e isn’t actually /e/ most of the time, and was probably closer to the ɛ, ə, ɐ, or æ - something weakly pronounced and a bit forward in the mouth. I’ll just be representing it with <a> for now because I’ll need a separate schwa in the next step and haven't fully decided on how the low vowels will pan out.

Word progress: ʔan-


2.1.4: gʷ

This one is going to be a tricky one, despite looking relatively normal. It’s got two prominent distinctive features, but they’re a lot more questionable than what’s come before. As reconstructed, *gʷ is:
  • Voiced, contrasting with unvoiced *kʷ and breathy voiced *gʷʰ
  • Labialized velar (pronounced with rounded lips), contrasting with plain *g and palatovelar *ǵ.
The problem is that both the plain voiced (*D Series) and the velar (*Ḱ *K and *Kʷ series) categories are suspect, and we get into the quote unquote fun of historical linguistics - the variables used in the reconstruction are only ever best guesses, sometimes new data makes old best guesses less best, and it takes an extremely and unfortunately long time for the traditional way of writing and talking about things to change to reflect that new data.

To whit: The three-way voiceless-voiced-breathy voiced (*T, *D, *Dʰ series) distinction in the stop consonants is so rare in the modern day that the number of comparable languages is in single-digits. This has led some reconstructioneers to theorize that the *D series was something else entirely, usually some kind of glottalized voiceless consonant (this is called Glottalic Theory), to account for why they are so infrequent in the corpus, why they never appear twice in the same root when *DʰeDʰ is extremely common, and why there is basically no *b at all except weird edge cases that might be errors or loanwords.

I’m going to cash in one of my Crank Credits™ and go with Allan Bomhard’s version of Glottalic Theory: the traditional *D series behaved similarly to glottalic consonants in Coast Tsimshian / Sm'algya̱x. Glottalization occurs on whatever side the vowel is on (leaning towards stressed vowel if between two), and is unreleased word-finally.

(Bomhard, as a rule, is not a reliable source: his whole deal is trying to reconstruct a protolanguage macrofamily ("Nostratic") that encompasses basically every language in Eurasia, and you can probably see the issue with making a reconstruction based on other reconstructions and claiming that it’s reflective of reality. His work is impressively thorough, methodologically whack, and would be better served if it was an elaborate art project. That said, in his efforts to make a Grand Unified Theory he cites basically everything anyone has ever written about the subject and entertains basically any idea that could even tangentially fit.)

So instead of *gʷ, I’m going with **k’ʷ, but this leads us to a second problem: it’s pretty weird for a labialized ejective to be stuck between two other consonants. (*-n̥-, since it acts like a vowel, is less weird in this regard, but since I’m working with a stage that doesn’t have *-n̥-, that’s not an option.)

Here’s where saying “fuck it, we ball” is very handy. Labialized consonants are pronounced with lip-rounding, and they are typically formed when a rounded vowel like /o/ or /u/ carries over to the preceding consonant. This is the extremely common process of assimilation which boils down to “brain makes one sound closer to a nearby sound to make it easier to say.”

Tugging on that thread (we are outside of normal reconstruction and fully into the art project weeds now), I’m going to stick a schwa in there, representing an unstressed **u that got reduced during the Vowel Mass Extinction and then obliterated in the Schwapocalypse (also called syncope) but left behind its roundedness on the **k’.

(This theory I am pulling primarily from the long-abandoned Paleoglot blog by Glen Gordon and his “Diachrony of Pre-PIE” document which was saved from oblivion by an automated Scribd web trawler. It has some significant issues that I have already run into trying to prep the next post, so I’m including it here because I like it and I can make it work for the time being - we’ll see how it turns out in the future.)

Now we are fully into the weeds and have three different versions of the word: pre- Extinction (reduction of unstressed high vowels to schwa), and then pre- and post- apocalyptic (deletion of schwa)

Word progress (Pre-Extinction): ʔank’u-
Word progress (Pre-Schwapocalpyse): ʔank’ʷə-
Word progress (Post-Schwapocalypse): ʔank’ʷ-


2.1.5: n

After all that mess, *n is just **n. Nasal consonants are anomalously well-behaved in reconstructed!PIE. There’s no indication of what this might have meant, if it meant anything at all, though there are other instances of *n getting slapped onto the end of words so maybe later we’ll see something that can give us a clue.

Word progress (Pre-Extinction): ʔank’un-
Word progress (Pre-Schwapocalpyse): ʔank’ʷən-
Word progress (Post-Schwapocalypse): ʔank’ʷn-


2.1.6: í

*i and *u are weird, because reconstructioners treat them as syllabic versions of *y and *w, working the same way as *-n̥- did above. They normally get written as *ey and *ew when stressed, *i and *u / *y and *w when unstressed, but as you’ve probably noticed by now, this here is a stressed *i. Exceptions to rules are everywhere, especially in old words, but that actually works in our favor.

While the “*i is just syllabic *y and the unstressed form of *ey” works for the background formula level of PIE chicanery, for my purposes there is a much simpler function I want to use: that at some point in the history of PIE, stressed high vowels (**i and **u) broke into the diphthongs **ay and **aw (or **əy and **əw - I’ll figure that out when we get there), and then when ablaut stress changes were applied we ended up with the syllabic *y and *w.

This is way too many words to say “*i is just **i for the purposes of this conlang”.

Word progress (Pre-Extinction): ʔank’uni-
Word progress (Pre-Schwapocalpyse): ʔank’ʷəni-
Word progress (Post-Schwapocalypse): ʔank’ʷni-


2.1.7: s

This was probably pronounced closer to /z/, since /s/ commonly voices after stressed vowels or voiced consonants (again, super common in English), but there didn’t seem to be a meaningful distinction between the two in recon!PIE: it’s just *s, nothing weird there.

Except there is something weird, it’s just grammatical instead of phonological - *s appears all over noun endings in PIE, to the point of being weird, but this post has gone on long enough without me going into a digression about why I think this happened just right now. To bullet-points it:

  • It’s typologically unusual for nominative-accusative languages to explicitly mark the subject of a sentence, but you do find this sort of thing in languages that make a distinction between the subject of an intransitive verb and the agent of a transitive verb.
  • PIE neuter nouns use the accusative case ending (*-m) for the nominative, which is another indication that we’re dealing with something that descended from an older system that cared about agency / animacy: since a rock isn’t animate it would never be the agent, and thus it would always use the ending for the patient of a verb, and this carried over through the switch to NOM-ACC.
  • The singular nominative demonstrative pronoun, *so, (“this, that”) is weirdly out of place - every other form in its declension table (all the non-NOM cases and every single plural form) begins with *t, not *s.

All put together we get a theory (that I did not make up myself) that the NOM.sing ending *-s is the leftovers of **sə, which is the reduced form of *so (which for vowel reasons I will write as **sɑ for now and explain later), which was originally **tɑ.

Now, to get all that working properly I have to add several more steps to our sequence and rename the ones we have. Here I’m going to shift over into directly describing

  • Starting Point: ʔank’uni tɑ
  • High Vowel Collapse + Labialization: ʔank’ʷəni tɑ
  • Agglutination Dance: ʔank’ʷənitɑ
  • Final vowel reduction: ʔank’ʷənítə
  • Schwapocalpyse: ʔank’ʷnit
  • Spirantization of final *t: ʔank’ʷnis
  • a > e shift: ʔenk’ʷnis
  • Ablaut Deletions: ʔn̥k’ʷnís
  • Glottalized > creaky voice:ʔn̥g̰ʷnís
  • Creaky voice to plain voiced: ʔn̥gʷnís
  • Laryngeal Loss: n̥gʷnís

And bing-bang boom we have a timeline of (hypothetical) changes from Early PIE to Late PIE that I can add to and adjust as I need to later on. I had to run my functions backwards in time, which is a bit awkward, but now I can just pick a stage and say “here’s where my language broke off”. Then I can just apply all those steps in reverse to any reconstructed word and add more granularity and more steps as needed.

Going forward, I think I am going to split off shortly after the Great Vowel Collapse, to get all those fun labialized consonants. More on that later.


3. Dictionary Entry

  • ʔan.k’u.ní (AN): wildfire; uncontrolled blaze; a fire that is particularly intense, destructive, uncontrollable, or fast-spreading.

4. Conclusion

For those of you who I haven’t chased off yet with all this nonsense, let me know if you’d like to see more. The density will trail off after I get more of my personal reconstruction established, but for the next few follow up words there’s still a good chunk of material to cover; I haven’t even gotten to rant about *h₂ yet.

Sunday, March 23, 2025

Exorcists and Wizard-Hunters: Alternate D&D Frameworks

(This is another ancient draft, probably going on two years and 3 or 4 versions old at this point.) 

The basic D&D / OSR outline provides us with two very important and equally under-appreciated facts.

Fact 1: Clerics have "Turn Away Undead" as a class feature.

Fact 2: "Charm Person" is a 1st-level wizard spell.
These can be extrapolated out into an entire campaign with little effort, and I think they can provide fruitful alternatives to the assumed modes of play.

Campaign Framework: Exorcists

Of the four core classes, the cleric's main mechanical specialty provides it with a clear direction in how it interacts with the rest of the setting: they’re anti-undead specialists.

This is typically overshadowed by their use as healers, especially in modern editions, but the implication remains of a setting where undead and/or demonic threats are both common enough and understood enough that there are people specially trained to deal with them. That leads to some very fruitful questions.

  • What is the parent religion of this cleric?
  • How centralized is this religion?
  • How does this religion view these entities?
  • How common are these entities?
  • How well-understood are these entities?
  • What is the relationship between the religion and its neighboring traditions?
  • What is the relationship between the religion and the apparatus of the state?
  • What is the relationship between the specialists and the rest of their religion?
  • How much of the religion’s beliefs actually reflect the metaphysics in play here?
  • What social standing does this religion (and by extension, clerics of this religion) have in this particular region and among this particular population?


Put all together, and the campaign practically writes itself. Build around the cleric, either as a PC or NPC. Take a hex or point crawl, dump some settlements and dungeons on it, stick some demons and undead in the points of interest, figure out what influence those demons and undead have on their surroundings, and let the rest come up as it will.

(It would be remiss of me to not mention Donn Stroud's exorcism system as featured in The Lesser Key, which is much better than bog-standard Turn Away Undead)

  • Why does the party exist? - They're the cleric's protectors while out on the road, and will provide a lot of the muscle of the operation. They too are specialists, covering for the things that the cleric cannot do.
  • Why is the party adventuring in dungeons? - They've been sent there specifically to deal with the undead/demons, either a single instance or a greater outbreak.
  • But what about treasure? - Maybe  the bishop writes you a check. Maybe you get paid by the demon. Maybe basic supplies aren't a problem because you're agents of the church. Maybe the alms are enough. Maybe the demon-infested ruins still have a lot of stuff in them that people might offer rewards for, or maybe no one will mind if it goes missing. And so on.




Campaign Framework: Wizard-Killers

Imagine a setting where Charm Person sits within reach of every sociopath, malignant narcissist, fascist ideologue, sexual predator, human trafficker, abusive spouse and undifferentiated Just Kind of a Piece of Shit in the world. Think for a moment about how easy it would be to kill someone with Mage Hand and Shape Water.

That alone is more than sufficient to build a wizard-hunting campaign on, but wizards provide a great deal more practical benefit than just that. Why is there a dungeon that violates the laws of nature? Wizard did it. Why are their horrible monsters shambling through the hills feasting on travelers? Wizard did it. Why is there a nameless horror from beyond the stars with its sights set on our placid isle of ignorance? A wizard god-damn did it. Power corrupts because power is the ability to get what you want, and the more power you have the less anyone can get in between you and the thing you want.

Like before, we can get ourselves some good places with some follow up questions:

  • Who is this wizard and what did he do that made people call in the wizard-killers?
  • Are you part of a wizard-killing organization, representatives of state power, or an informal posse?
  • How are wizards, evil or otherwise, handled in this society anyway? Why aren’t the wizards in charge, if they aren’t already in charge?
  • What safeguards does this society normally have against evil wizards?
  • What does this culture consider good vs bad magic, and why?
  • What are this wizard’s obsessions?
  • What are this wizard’s relations with other wizards?

The wizard-killer framework lends itself to a sort of fantasy Delta Green. Here’s the wizard of the week, go raid his sanctum and 86 the bastard. String a few of these together and you have a campaign.

(The sandbox approach could also work here, just as demon-of-the-week could work for the exorcist framework - I’m dividing the two primarily just to have symmetry. You could very easily merge them, since evil wizards no doubt are dabbling with dark forces people want exorcized. Honestly, why would you even become an evil wizard if not to dabble in dark forces and ponder your orb.)

  • Why does the party exist? - You're specialists called in to kill the evil wizard.
  • Why is the party adventuring in dungeons? - The evil wizard is in there.
  • But what about treasure? - Wizards, naturally, are sitting on enormous hoards of weird / valuable / plot-relevant items and they certainly aren't going to have any use for them now that you've shown them a bit of praxis. This will definitely have no downsides and cannot possibly be part of a tragic cycle of hubris and violence.

Saturday, March 15, 2025

Bookpost Special: House of the Rain King


 
(Disclosure: Author gave me an ARC and asked me to write a review.)

House of the Rain King is a good fucking book. That’s the short version. Book good. If you are reading this blog you are in the target audience and I feel confident that you will have a decent or better time.

The long version is more like this: House of the Rain King is a story about a secluded valley along the Tile river. Every century or so the Rain King returns to the valley, bringing a catastrophic flood with him. At the height of the flood he marries a saint of the birds, and when he departs the waters recede and people rebuild. The titular House is a monastery dedicated to the Rain King, and preparing for his return, and this is the lucky year when the Rain King shows up with a band of fairies (and the mercenary Sparrow Company) in tow. Things progress from there.

There is a sense of grubby realism pervading the book, a thematically appropriate muddiness that serves as its backbone. Nothing quite lives up to ideals. Shit happens for reasons no one could have predicted. People die in stupid ways. Some things never get resolved, or only manage to reach anticlimax. Characters make mistakes and bad decisions but they don't make them because they're suddenly, inexplicably stupid. People are somewhere between good and bad; mostly decent, but scuffed at the edges and bent and dent from transit through life.

It’s not grimdark, though I don’t know what I would call it instead. Probably nothing: genre designations are prisons, and House is good precisely because it isn’t playing to genre conventions. While the Sparrows are very much in the tradition of the Black Company and the Bridgeburners, they’re less heightened than the latter and less wallowing in the mud and blood and guts than the former.

The world is built with a light touch, and that’s what makes it all sing. The pieces work together in harmony: nothing is so alien as to require excess exposition, but the familiar is not treated with the contempt of tropes recited out of obligation. It’s focused on a single valley, the people who live there, their beliefs and history, and doesn’t wander down side roads. The only lore is localized, and that is a wonderful change of pace.

The characters are another highlight: they are well-fleshed out and enjoyable to read, but the thing I love most of all about them - and probably the book as a whole - is that the characters speak and act like real people. There’s a naturalism and a lack of performativity to the dialogue; characters having experience and knowledge is treated as a given. They react to things as would be appropriate to who they are: the teenager who has spent his entire life in the valley is familiar with its flora and fauna and hidden places. The veteran mercenaries are going to snap to attention and get to work when trouble shows up, because they’ve done it before.

We see this to great effect in the dungeon-delve section (there’s a dungeon-delve section, by the by, it’s very good) - the Sparrows have looted tombs before, and on encountering an unfamiliar enemy they jump right into revising their strategy as soon as they figure out what’s going on. No wasted time, no talking in circles, no waiting for the convenience of a plot beat to get them out of it. Right to business.

It’s extremely refreshing. You’ve all seen my complaints about YA-ified spec fic in my bookposts, House is a shining example of what can be accomplished when that trend is avoided.

Actually, thinking about it now, House of the Rain King feels like a pre-D&D fantasy novel. Which is a wild thing to say considering it is D&D as fuck. Straight up late G+ era OSR goodness, I could absolutely see Skerples writing up the central dungeon. But it’s D&D as fuck without being married to the trade dress of D&D, if that makes sense - like it feels like a book that a D&D adventure would be based on, rather than a book that is based on a D&D adventure.
 
Yeah, that's probably the best way to describe it.
 
Book good, go read it.

Thursday, March 6, 2025

Romanizing Cthulhu, Part 2

Part 1

In a surprising development that no one could have possibly predicted, the inspirational well (and the fun) for this idle thought experiment ran dry very quickly. The truth can’t really be avoided; in their attempts to make “alien names”, Mythos authors mostly just replicated the sounds and forms of English words. Even those ludicrous consonant clusters just get broken up with epenthetic schwas if you try saying them out loud.

Ah well. I went into this knowing it was unlikely to amount to much.

Anyway, this post will contain all the meaningful thoughts I wrote prior to giving up.  With that done I can free up the mental hard drive space for the next fixation.

**


Now, before we start, I have a couple significant observations that could use expounding on.

Yi romanization isn’t viable on the whole 
As much as I would like to include it for novelty’s sake, I must concede that we’re using English orthography for the stop consonants. Saner that way.

The rarity of <e>
Outside of <ee> digraphs, the only places I have found it in the core HPL namelist are Gnopkeh, Y’ha-nthlei, R’lyeh, Yhe, Yeb, Nyarlathotep, Rhan-Tegoth, the nonce word “l’geb” from an incantation in Charles Dexter Ward, and a few locations in the Dreamlands.

Going by our earlier guidelines and dropping Nyarly, that gives us three /ɛ/, two /e/, and one /ɛj/

(R’lyeh is called “Relex” in The Mound, but I don’t have anything useful to pull from that at the moment)

That is an exceptionally small selection considering how many nonsense names we are dealing with, to the point where I am reasonably convinced that the mid front vowels don’t exist at all. I haven’t found evidence of a minimal pair yet to make the call.

(A minimal pair is when you have two phonemes in the same environment that, when swapped, would change the meaning of a word. A simple example would be pen vs pan (/pɛn/ vs /pæn/), which has the minimal pair of ɛ and æ.

I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled on this one, to see what I can cook up.

BACK TO THE LAB AGAIN


Picking up where we last left off, I’m going to focus on names that give us new rules or interesting new phonemes; the majority of Lovecraft’s names are actually quite tame and they don’t really have anything interesting to analyze

#3: Gyaa-yothn

A minor monster from The Mound, a story that will have outsize representation in this series (ed: It did not) for its higher-than-average percentage of weird names. This one can give us a couple of extra rules that are blessedly self-evident:

  • HPL 7:  <aa> => /a:/
    • Giving us a nice balanced triangle of long vowels.
  • HPL 8:  CyV indicates that the preceding consonant is palatalized
    • In this case, this is a straightforward  /ɟ/
  • HPL 9: Syllabic consonants can serve as syllable nuclei
    • This is going to be a huge help later on with those really absurd clusters. While we only have /n̩/ for now, /l̩/, /r̩/, and /m̩/ are likely.
      • /-n̩/ is explicitly a pluralization affix in the story (no sign if it has any other function), and Yoth is the name of a place, so we have a surprising amount of grammar to potentially work with.
        • Specifically, compound constructs seem to be built as [root]--[modifier] + [ending]; “gyaa-yoth” in the singular is something like “a gyaa, from Yoth” or “a Yothic gyaa”


#4: Yhe and Y’ha-nthlei

We get a double minimal pair here (at least according to our common sense rule of “if it’s spelled differently, it’s pronounced differently”): <y’h> and <yh> are not the same, and <e> and <a> are not the same.

<yh> is going to be a fricative due to HPL 6, and since the consonant component is the palatal approximate /j/ that’ll leave us with the voiced palatal fricative /ʝ/. Nice and easy. <y’h> can wait until we try to tackle apostrophes.

<ei> and <e> are going to be a pain in the ass, because in English these are treated as the same thing: we stick a /j/ glide after /e/ because English doesn’t like vowels sitting next to each other, but we stick that glide in even when there isn’t a vowel after it. But if we are going by what we’ve been given, /ɛ/ /e/ and /ɛj/ probably form a minimal trio in Aklo because they all show up in word-final position.

We’ll set that one aside for now. However the vowel is pronounced, <nthl> is a pretty obvious /n̩.θl/

#5 The god-damn apostrophes

Ah, the apostrophe. The bane of spec-fic since time immemorial, yet somehow they endure to the present day (See: local space-fascist frog-person Lē Zel from some video game)

In real languages, apostrophes can be used for:

  • A glottal stop (ex. Hawai’i)
  • A sign that letters or sounds have been elided (ex. cannot => can’t)
  • An unwritten schwa (this is how the SFF apostrophe is typically pronounced)
  • An ejective stop (this is how ejectives are written in IPA)
  • An aspirated stop (as in Wade-Giles romanization of Mandarin)
  • A marker to clarify if two sounds do or don’t form a cluster
  • A marker to differentiate between phonemes that would otherwise use the same letters (ex. Breton uses <ch> for /tʃ/, and <c’h> for /x/ and /ɣ/
  • A glottalized consonant


Since none of these authors gave a shit about any of this and just threw them into their alien names willy-nilly,  I’ll be using a similarly eclectic approach and give the apostrophe different realizations depending on its environment. Let’s look at our proper noun list and see what patterns we can find (limiting the survey to HPL alone for now).

  • Y’ha-nthlei
  • K’n-yan
  • Thuum’ha
  • T’la-yub
  • Y’m-bhi
  • L’thaa
  • N’Kai
  • K’thun
  • S’ngac
  • R’lyeh

Nearly all of these are word-initial C’C clusters preceding a vowel. There’s more variety in the strings of speech we get in The Call of Cthulhu  and The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

  • Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn
  • Y'ai 'ng'ngah, Yog-Sothoth h'ee - l'geb f'ai throdog
  • Ogthrod ai'f geb'l-ee'h Yog-Sothoth 'ngah'ng ai'y zhro

The CDW lines have more to them, stick a pin in that for now.

Our simplest apostrophe is found in “Thuum’ha”, where it’s conveniently placed between two consonants at an apparent syllable boundary. That’s a pretty clear indicator that it is meant to designate that the syllables are split <thuum> and <ha>, rather than <thuu> and <mha>. It’d be helpful if we can find an <mh> cluster to compare it against, but even if we can’t I feel this is an easy one to pencil in under rule HPL 5.

Type 0 Apostrophe: used to denote either a glottal stop (when between two vowels) or a short pause (when between two syllables at a syllable boundary.
We haven’t seen the intervocalic version yet, but it’s such a common usage of apostrophes that I feel confident in including it.

Next up, we have our most common apostrophe usage, a word-initial C’C cluster. This is a really uncommon cluster in real-world languages (which is probably why it is so common in sci-fi), and our only real clue is that <y’h> and <yh> are differentiated.

Seeing no better option, I pencilled these in as click consonants, for the following reasons:

  • Weirdo racists like those employed at Miskatonic would definitely consider clicks to be unknowable and alien, despite the fact that human toddlers can make them perfectly fine when raised in a language that has them.
  • Weirdo racists like those employed at Miskatonic would probably brew up some bonkers ways of representing them.
  • Most of these consonant-apostrophe-consonant clusters are word initial, and real-life click languages nearly always limit clicks to initial positions (usually the word or root, sometimes the syllable)

I have in my notes a sketch of how to determine what cluster equals what click, but like I said up top, the well is dry and there ain’t much to go on.

Type 1 Apostrophe: Word-initial consonant-apostrophe-consonant clusters are trigraphs representing click consonants.

Now, the bit for CDW that I stuck a pin in has one thing that could be interesting - the incantation is described as being “syllabically reversed” in its second half. That is, the syllables, not the individual sounds, are placed in reversed order. We end up with a pair of 'ng'ngah and  'ngah'ng; splitting that up we end up with ‘ng and ‘ngah - normally this would be a sure-fire sign of something like preglottalization, but I am proven a fool immediately by the next-door pair of y'ai and ai’y, where the apostrophe is clearly not tied to the syllable itself.

It was at this point that I got bored admitted defeat.

SO WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED

  1. Sometimes I have stupid ideas that I shouldn’t entertain, but end up putting too much thought into anyway.
  2. Science-fiction authors should have their apostrophe keys removed until they can prove they can use them responsibly.
  3. Reality will always be stranger than fiction in ways that most authors will never be able to match, especially with language: Nuxalk contains many, many words that have no vowels at all, the textbook example being the grammatically correct but unlikely to be regularly used clhp’xwlhtlhplhhskwts’ (IPA: xɬpʼχʷɬtʰɬpʰɬːskʷʰt͡sʼ), which translates to "he had had (in his possession) a bunchberry plant".

HPL would probably spontaneously combust (in a highly ironic fashion) if he ever heard any of the Caucasian languages (that is, languages from the Caucuses). Dude had a mental breakdown over the existence of the Welsh; Ubykh has (well, had. Last speaker died in 1992) 84 consonants and two vowels.

Cthulhu ain't shit, phonologically speaking.
 

Saturday, March 1, 2025

Dan Plays Games 6

Previous posts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Damn, I have played a lot of video games recently. I believe this is what is called a “coping mechanism” in the biz.

Buckshot Roulette

It is definitely three dollars worth of the good part of Inscryption and delivers on the singular thing it sets out to do, which is a game of Russian roulette with a shotgun.



Epigraph

A language decipherment puzzle, and a damn good one. Ate my focus for a few days, and I filled up five or six notebook pages trying to decipher it. I’d only recommended it for people who really, really like word games and know enough about linguistics to get into trouble, but if that describes you it’s a good time. It’s all just the one puzzle: you’re given some artifacts, some untranslated text, a couple clues and that’s it.



Mouthwashing

If you like space horror and have an afternoon and 13 bucks to spare, this one is a must. Go in sight unseen if you can. Top-tier Mothership fuel. One of those games that carries an “if you know, you know” feeling of in-group induction (positive) along with it. If you know, you fucking know.

Up front content warning, it’s fucking grim. It’s an isolated group of human beings in a time of crisis, with all that entails. It’s got some ugly human souls to bare to the world. The PS1 style graphics are used to great effect here: the gore is polygonal and abstracted, but that doesn’t lessen the effect. If anything it is a case study in how photorealism isn’t necessary at all for a good scare.

The parts where it stumbles a bit can be counted on a single hand with fingers left over and ultimately if the worst thing you can say about a game are “there are two sections where it’s a 7/10 for a couple minutes”, that’s a gold seal of quality.



Katana Zero

From a mechanics and aesthetics perspective, this is an all-time banger. Tens across the board. Everything working in unison to deliver a singular artistic experience that is just fucking rad. Good pixel art isn’t hard to come by and this stands out even in that crowded field. The gameplay itself is honed to perfection. Nails the responsiveness and the eternally important “games where death is common should have short load times.”

But there is a catch: the game’s not done. You hit credits on a cliffhanger, and the promised DLC has yet to emerge and likely never will. The 12th chapter, even though you can select it, just doesn’t exist beyond an empty room and a “come back in a few months” message. It is a sour note to end on, but not enough to really damage the whole. There’s enough closure to leave reasonably satisfied. It’s like there’s been a chunk cut out of an incredibly good steak - you still get an incredibly good steak.



Selaco

This game runs on fucking GZDoom, which makes it nothing short of a miracle, but man am I bad at boomer shooters. Barely even scratched the surface on this one.



Shadows of Doubt

I thought I was going to like this one more than I did. Maybe it’s just a bad tutorial, I don’t know. It feels like it should work, but it doesn’t work.



Quester | Osaka

I bought this because I enjoyed the first Quester and this one was 85% off: it is functionally exactly the same game as Quester, to the point where buying it for 3 bucks feels like a ripoff. No meaningful changes, to the point where I wouldn’t even call it a sequel. It’s a new map (which isn’t saying much), one new mechanic (a canoe to cross water) and some new characters (who are a .jpg and some stats).



ABI-DOS

This is a puzzle game that I absolutely have no skill in and I am unlikely to get far with, but it is free and if your brain works well with programming puzzles.



Luck Be A Landlord

Another freebie. Proto-Balatro, slots instead of poker. Good for an unwinding game, since it doesn’t ask much of you and the cost of failure is low. There is some ability to go after particular builds, which is nice, though sometimes the game will just refuse to give you what you need.



Gods vs Horrors (Demo)

A simple autobattler where the pantheons of Earth fight lovecraftian gribblies. Just a demo for now, but I wishlisted it instantly which says a lot. The art is nice, there’s a good selection of pantheons on deck already, and most importantly it allows you to pull off some disgustingly busted



The Roottrees are Dead

WESTERN PA MENTIONED

This one’s a winner. Scratches the Obra Dinn itch, with another mystery of freeform research and logical deduction. I am 110% on board with this genre, and if the idea of digging around in a database for fictional magazine back issues to find clues is appealing to you, you’ll be on board with it too.

What makes it (and Obra Dinn) work, I think, is that both games make it very clear what information they want you to find, and then they go hands off. There are occasional chokepoints that might leave you stuck, but it’s got a solid hint system (the sort where it doesn’t tell you exactly what to do unless you hit it 3~4 times) and most of these points were in the Roottreemania second mystery (which is basically a postgame challenge)



Caves of Qud

I am cybernetically fused to a floating flamethrowing throne. I have four arms with an ax in each hand. I have a fungal infection that gives me minty fresh healing mushrooms. My best friend is the Ape God, and my battle party is displaced time-clones of myself.

I fucking love Caves of Qud. It’s like if Gene Wolfe got into the really chill kind of self-actualization-focused transhumanism and then wrote a video game where baboons stone you to death while you try to strip the wiring from an ancient missile silo.



UFO50 

I’ve got 70 hours in, 5 golds, 1 cherry, here’s the tier list as it stands


As an artistic work, UFO50 is unimpeachable. They've managed to encapsulate an era of video games as perfectly as a modern recreation is capable of, I think. Most devs stop at aesthetics; here they've gone the full 9 yards, here.

The downside of this is that 80s video games were developed prior to the introduction of such modern innovations as "fairness", "game balance", "responsive controls", “respecting the player’s time” and "non-instant deaths". UFO50 emulates the warts along with the rest, and while that is commendable artistically, by god am I glad that this era is dead and gone.

Still; it’s 50 games for 25 bucks, and I’d say it’s more than worth it even if you only find 5 you like.

Rapid-fire comments

  • Night Manor is my current best-in-show. It’s a point-and-click’em-up adventure game with coherent, non-bullshit puzzles.
  • Velgress is another champion of the collection, because it remembers the key points of a good high-difficulty game: fast respawn, no time wasted.
  • I love Overbold but it does that thing where the health bar isn’t indicative of how much health you actually have: you start with six pips, and die in one hit. Also has some of the worst hitboxes I have ever seen, downright impossible to gauge.
  • Grimstone starts strong (and I love the gimmick of a wild-west Final Fantasy), but it’s got a serious midgame slog and the devs removed an extremely helpful glitch (you can resurrect party members with Cure outside of battle, including the caster) that was so barely an exploit that most people thought it was intentional. Don’t remove fun and useful bugs: not just because they’re fun and useful, but also because stuff like that is true to the era.
  • I want to love Valbrace, but it’s very slow and saves so infrequently that you’re liable to lose progress in half hour chunks or more, and there’s not enough variety or speed in the game to keep me invested in doing the same damn thing over and over.
  • Devilition is growing on me, same with Mortol 2.
  • This tier list is way less authoritative than it may appear, and shakeups are bound to happen at some point or another.



Rift of the Necrodancer

Yet another game I enjoy and am dogshit at. They threw a curveball in the genre by giving all the monsters different behaviors and then throwing track hazards on top of that, which I think is great design but also OH GOD THIS IS ONLY MEDIUM DIFFICULTY WHAT THE FUCK.



Sorry We’re Closed

An astoundingly horny and extremely queer Resident Evil-like. One of the devs worked on Paradise Killer and you can absolutely tell. Oozes style like no one’s business, which would be great on its own - but then it comes out of nowhere to tell a pretty philosophical story about love. When the super-horny and incredibly queer Resident Evil-like starts talking about how demons are trying to fill the hole in themselves that formed when they got tossed out of Heaven and lost access to divine love and that they’re jealous of humans for being able to heal from heartbreak? Big neon sign that this story is going to go interesting places. So far, it has delivered.

Combat can be a bit frustrating, though, especially with the 1st person melee. Comes with the genre, I suppose.