Worldbuilding
There is a hierarchy of Nerdom. This is not a natural order, as there is no ecosystem or balanced biosphere were everything has its place. Nerdom is more like Dante's Purgatory, a massive tiered pinnacle, an Olympus Mons rising from the florid fungal landscapes of distant Alpha Centauri.
At the base of the mountain, where the ground is rocky but still largely even, are those that indulge in a good sci-fi movie, or perhaps even watched episodes of the old Star Trek with their dad as a kid. Further up the slope are those that read such fiction, and dabble in imagining themselves at the Battle of Pellenor Fields. Even further up, amidst the slime encrusted limestone cliffs, traversing the canyons created by ancient glacial floes, dwell those that play role playing games. These polyhedron-wielding Morlocks usually dwell in the recesses of dark forbidden caves labeled with devilish names to try to ward off curious interlopers. "Dark Sun" this one is called. "GURPS" is the guttural cthonic name of this one. "Big Eyes, Small Mouth" promises to house Gollum-like mutants that will surely feast on your flesh, or perhaps just a solitary tentacle monster.
At the higher reaches of the cliffs of the RPGers are those that actually design their own settings to host their games in. They'll perhaps create a map (with or without slime-covered cliffs) for their players to explore, roughly determine a reason for fantastical gods to exist and for evil to be smitten (smoted? smited?), and then lead their players into this newly invented netherscape. They preach down from their precipice to their comrades who howl below. These beings are feared and revered by the RPGers, and given such shamanistic titles as "Game Master". Then, there are the worldbuilders.
Dark and brooding along the jagged, sheer surfaces of blacken volcanic glass, the worldbuilders' smoldering eyes seldom look down at the beings who dwell below them. Having left their cannibalistic tribes of RPGers for a solitary existence, their reptillian wings keep them warm in the howling, frosty, thin air. They breathe out great bellowing gouts of smoke. These beings might have once designed maps and settings for the specific purpose of entertainment, but then the obsession took hold. No longer satisfied by simply letting a gold piece be a gold piece, they instead have to ponder the worth of a particular country's coinage. Which denominations do they use? What are the implications of the existence of magic on currency? What is used for international trade? How abundant are these precious metals to make the coins? Where are these precious metals mined? Since that place has gold, will it not be the center of many battles and intrigues? How does that affect this neighboring country? What does that country use for coinage? AD INFINITUM.
No, there is no end to the detail that must be fleshed out. What once started as a few blobs scribbled on a paper slowly transforms into continents, countries, regions, greeting customs, legal systems, table manners, local delicacies, and more. Then there is always the possibility to not design a world that is simply static in time, but one with history, and suddenly there is a thousand years of the above questions to answer. Running out of things to flesh out? Just turn your attention to a new area on that little map. Should the RPGers below wish to use the world for their purposes of entertainment is of little interest to the worldbuilder, save for a passing amusement that the Great Sapient Madness has shaped the rituals of insects below.
I am a worldbuilder. The first time I gazed acrossed that line from simple madness to Madness-with-a-capital-M was in the latter years of highschool, when I designed a little D&D setting, and then redesigned it to show what it would be like 500 years later. It was the most in-depth a setting I had ever made, one with continents that floated on soupy clouds and world-changing wars and a new species or two. It was a simpler time for me, pastoral and tranquil and ignorant of the depths of the devilry to follow.
The world I've been building for the past several years is a monster. I have gigs of maps, including regions, landforms, religious majorities, migratory phases, and the state of countries at various times in their 5000 year lifespan. I have a 800+ year timeline and history of the events of one country's recorded history (only a general synopsis of their orally kept histories) that now spans over 60 pages of a size 8 font, and it still grows. I have a 17 page document detailing in the most abstract terms that country's calendar, festivals, entertainment, government, and genetic ancestry. I have rough equivalents for other regions so that I could tell you details, by heart, of the general way of life for probably 60% of humanity on the planet, and I've so far designed humanity to cover only about 30% of available landmass so far. I may claim that I only fill in a little piece here and there when I am bored, but how can I not be sure that I am simply bored when not crafting the the make, size, and building materials of the trade ships of the Veridian Coast, or when I am not defining the marriage ceremony performed by the painted-headed priests of the vulture god Cshen? Surely there must be an answer. Perhaps I should question Emperor Merivanon "the Bittersword" of the great Draconic Empire, or consult the faceless masked Aelvs of the north...
At the base of the mountain, where the ground is rocky but still largely even, are those that indulge in a good sci-fi movie, or perhaps even watched episodes of the old Star Trek with their dad as a kid. Further up the slope are those that read such fiction, and dabble in imagining themselves at the Battle of Pellenor Fields. Even further up, amidst the slime encrusted limestone cliffs, traversing the canyons created by ancient glacial floes, dwell those that play role playing games. These polyhedron-wielding Morlocks usually dwell in the recesses of dark forbidden caves labeled with devilish names to try to ward off curious interlopers. "Dark Sun" this one is called. "GURPS" is the guttural cthonic name of this one. "Big Eyes, Small Mouth" promises to house Gollum-like mutants that will surely feast on your flesh, or perhaps just a solitary tentacle monster.
At the higher reaches of the cliffs of the RPGers are those that actually design their own settings to host their games in. They'll perhaps create a map (with or without slime-covered cliffs) for their players to explore, roughly determine a reason for fantastical gods to exist and for evil to be smitten (smoted? smited?), and then lead their players into this newly invented netherscape. They preach down from their precipice to their comrades who howl below. These beings are feared and revered by the RPGers, and given such shamanistic titles as "Game Master". Then, there are the worldbuilders.
Dark and brooding along the jagged, sheer surfaces of blacken volcanic glass, the worldbuilders' smoldering eyes seldom look down at the beings who dwell below them. Having left their cannibalistic tribes of RPGers for a solitary existence, their reptillian wings keep them warm in the howling, frosty, thin air. They breathe out great bellowing gouts of smoke. These beings might have once designed maps and settings for the specific purpose of entertainment, but then the obsession took hold. No longer satisfied by simply letting a gold piece be a gold piece, they instead have to ponder the worth of a particular country's coinage. Which denominations do they use? What are the implications of the existence of magic on currency? What is used for international trade? How abundant are these precious metals to make the coins? Where are these precious metals mined? Since that place has gold, will it not be the center of many battles and intrigues? How does that affect this neighboring country? What does that country use for coinage? AD INFINITUM.
No, there is no end to the detail that must be fleshed out. What once started as a few blobs scribbled on a paper slowly transforms into continents, countries, regions, greeting customs, legal systems, table manners, local delicacies, and more. Then there is always the possibility to not design a world that is simply static in time, but one with history, and suddenly there is a thousand years of the above questions to answer. Running out of things to flesh out? Just turn your attention to a new area on that little map. Should the RPGers below wish to use the world for their purposes of entertainment is of little interest to the worldbuilder, save for a passing amusement that the Great Sapient Madness has shaped the rituals of insects below.
I am a worldbuilder. The first time I gazed acrossed that line from simple madness to Madness-with-a-capital-M was in the latter years of highschool, when I designed a little D&D setting, and then redesigned it to show what it would be like 500 years later. It was the most in-depth a setting I had ever made, one with continents that floated on soupy clouds and world-changing wars and a new species or two. It was a simpler time for me, pastoral and tranquil and ignorant of the depths of the devilry to follow.
The world I've been building for the past several years is a monster. I have gigs of maps, including regions, landforms, religious majorities, migratory phases, and the state of countries at various times in their 5000 year lifespan. I have a 800+ year timeline and history of the events of one country's recorded history (only a general synopsis of their orally kept histories) that now spans over 60 pages of a size 8 font, and it still grows. I have a 17 page document detailing in the most abstract terms that country's calendar, festivals, entertainment, government, and genetic ancestry. I have rough equivalents for other regions so that I could tell you details, by heart, of the general way of life for probably 60% of humanity on the planet, and I've so far designed humanity to cover only about 30% of available landmass so far. I may claim that I only fill in a little piece here and there when I am bored, but how can I not be sure that I am simply bored when not crafting the the make, size, and building materials of the trade ships of the Veridian Coast, or when I am not defining the marriage ceremony performed by the painted-headed priests of the vulture god Cshen? Surely there must be an answer. Perhaps I should question Emperor Merivanon "the Bittersword" of the great Draconic Empire, or consult the faceless masked Aelvs of the north...